^-.V        ■;  Ar-r-\   1 


Southern  Branch 
of  the 

University  of  California 

Los  Angeles 


Form  L  I 


PR 

4063 

B3i 


FORMAL  SCHOOL 

CATTFr>r«||^ 


,'.i-^-i"j    rATTCrkr«n*  *^ 


STATBNORMALSCHOOL, 


IRISH     IDYLLS 

STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL, 


BY 

JANE    BARLOW 

AUTHOR  OF   "  BOGLAND  STUDIES  ' 


DODD,   MEAD   &   COMPANY 
1894 


Copyright,  1893,  by 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

All  righti  reserved. 


PREFACE. 

In  Lisconnel,  and  other  such  places,  we  have  a 
saying  that  there  arc  plenty  of  things  besides  turf 
to  be  found  in  a  bog.  This  Httle  book  attempts  to 
record  some  of  these  things,  inckiding,  I  hope,  a 
proportion  of  that  "  human  nature  "  which  a  cer- 
tain humourist  has  declared  to  exist  in  considerable 
quantities  among  our  species.  I  hope,  too,  that 
the  phases  of  it  pictured  here  may  have  some  spe- 
cial interest  for  American  readers,  to  whose  shores 
the  wild  boglands  of  Connaught  send  so  many  a 
forlorn  voyager  "over  oceans  of  say."  They  will 
perhaps  care  to  glance  at  his  old  home,  and  learn 
the  reasons  why  he  leaves  it,  which  seem  to  lie 
very  obviously  on  the  surface,  and  the  reasons,  less 
immediately  apparent,  why  his  neighbours  bide 
behind.  It  is  indeed  the  fact  of  those  emigrants 
that  chiefly  encourages  me  to  believe  there  may  be 
room  and  a  welcome  across  the  Atlantic  for  this 

one  emigrant  more. 

Jane  Barlow. 

Raheny  County, 
Dublin,  May,  1893. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

rAGB 

LISCONNEL I 


CHAPTER  H. 
A  WINDFALL  14 

CHAPTER  HI. 
ONE  TOO  MANY       40 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  WET  DAY  76 

CHAPTER  V. 
GOT  THE  BETTER  OF  I07 

CHAPTER  VI. 
HERSELF       ^43 


viil  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PAGE 

THUNDER   IN   THE   AIR ...      164 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
BETWEEN  TWO   LADY-DAYS  204 

CHAPTER    IX. 
BACKWARDS   AND   FORWARDS 242 

CHAPTER   X. 
COMING   AND   GOING ...  ...  ...      285 


IToT-via  yrj,  iravSwpt,  Sortipa  fii\i(ppovog  o\0ov, 
£)Q  dfta  Ir)  ro7g  fiiv  (pwrHv  tvo\Oo<;  tTvx9rfQ, 


O  Land  our  Lady,  all-bounteous,  whose  wealth-giving  gladdeth  man's  heart, 
To  some,  in  sooth,  of  thy  children  thou  yieldest  how  rich  a  part. 
Yet  to  other  some,  in  thine  anger,  how  barren  and  rugged  thoa  art. 


CHAPTER  I. 

LISCONNEL. 

Thlre  is  a  great  deal  of  room  all  round  and 
about  Lisconnel.  That  is,  perhaps,  what  strikes 
one  most  upon  arriving  in  sight  of  its  half-score 
cabins,  though  the  impression  m.ay  have  been 
growing  all  along  the  seven  Irish  miles  from  Dufif- 
clane.  They  could  not  well  be  measured  on  a 
lonelier  road  through  a  wilder  bogland.  The  broad 
level  spreads  away  and  away  to  the  horizon,  before 
and  behind,  and  on  either  hand  of  you,  very 
sombrely  hued,  yet  less  black-avised  than  more 
.frequented  bogs.  For  the  turf  has  been  cut  only 
in  a  few  insignificant  patches  ;  so  that  its  dark- 
ness lies  hidden  under  an  ancient  coverlid,  sad- 
coloured,  indeed,  but  not  sharply  incongruous  with 
sunshine.  Heath,  rushes,  furze,  ling,  and  the  like, 
have  woven  it  thickly,  their  various  tints  merging, 
for  the  most  part,  into  one  uniform  brown,  with  a 
few  rusty  streaks  in  it,  as  if  the  weather-beaten 

2  • 


2  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

fell  of  some  huge  primaeval  beast  were  stretched 
smoothly  over  the  flat  plain.  Here  and  there, 
however,  the  monochrome  will  be  broken  :  a  white 
gleam  comes  from  a  tract  where  the  breeze  is 
deftly  unfurling  the  silky  bog-cotton  tufts  on  a 
thousand  elfin  distaffs  ;  or  a  rich  glow,  crimson 
and  dusky  purple  dashed  with  gold,  betokens  the 
profuse  mingling  of  furze  and  heather  blooms ;  or 
a  sunbeam,  glinting  across  some  little  grassy 
esker,  strikes  out  a  strangely  jewel-like  flash  of 
transparent  green,  such  as  may  be  seen  in  young 
moss. 

But  these  are  very  rare,  unusually  rare,  in  the 
bogland  between  Duffclane  and  Lisconnel.  The 
picture  you  bring  away  with  you  on  most  days  of 
the  year  is  of  this  wide  brown  floor,  sweeping  on 
to  meet  the  distant  sky-line.  Whenever  your  eyes 
follow  it  to  the  southward,  you  become  aware  of 
faint,  finely-limned  shapes  that  haunt  it,  looining 
up  on  its  borders,  much  less  substantial,  apparently, 
in  fabric  than  so  many  spirals  of  blue  turf  smoke. 
Thoy  are  big  bens,  the  remotest  of  them  num- 
bered, it  may  be,  among  those  twelve  towering 
Conncmarcse  peaks,  which  in  Saxon  speech  have 
dwindled  into  Pins.  Any  country  body  met  on 
the  way  would  point  out  which  dim  wraith  is  Ben 
Bawn  or  Ben  Nephin.  But  I  hardly  care  to  iden- 
tify them  ;  they  sccmti  as  if  they  were  looking  in 


LISCONNEL.  3 

Dut  of  another  world  to  remind  us  how  far  off 
it  is. 

As  for  the  road,  it  has  determined  that  the  way- 
farer shall  never  lose  his  sense  of  the  great  soli- 
tudes through  which  it  is  leading  him.  In  all  its 
length  it  has  scarcely  half  a  dozen  yards  of  any 
kind  of  fence — wall,  bushes,  or  even  the  humblest 
ledge  of  bank.  It  runs  quite  flush  with  the  bog 
on  either  side,  sometimes  edged  by  a  narrow  strip 
of  the  short  fine  sward,  where,  if  the  district  were 
inhabited,  geese  would  waddle  and  graze  ;  but 
there  is  nothing  to  shut  out  the  limitless  expanses 
of  earth  and  sky.  Travelling  on  it,  a  man  ma)' 
learn  that  a  broad  hat- brim  is  not  an  altogether 
despicable  screen  between  his  imagination  and  the 
insistence  of  an  importunate  infinity. 

One  autumn  season  a  hapless  Neapolitan  organ- 
grinder  strayed  somehow  into  these  regions,  with 
his  monkey  clinging  round  his  neck.  It  is  a  long 
time  ago,  but  a  generation  afterwards  people 
remembered  the  lost,  scared  look  in  the  eyes  of 
man  and  beast.  They  both  fell  ill  and  died  in 
the  Town  down  beyond,  as  if,  poor  souls,  they  had 
not  the  heart  to  keep  alive  in  the  vast,  murky, 
sunless  world  that  had  been  revealed  to  them. 
And  to  this  day  you  are  pointed  out  the  French- 
man's grave — for  a  foreigner  here  is  always  a 
Frenchman  — in  the  churchyard  beside  the  lough. 


4  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

The  road,  one  of  Scotch  Nimmo's  making,  is 
generally  drawn  straight  enough,  though  now  and 
again  it  swerves  consid^^rably  to  avoid  a  wet  piece 
of  bog,  and,  straight  or  winding,  its  course  may  be 
traced  for  miles  ahead,  a  streak  across  the  land- 
scape, not  strongly  marked,  except  in  very  dry 
weather,  when  there  is  white  dust  on  it,  yet  distinct 
as  a  crease  in  the  palm  of  your  hand.  One 
peculiarity  of  such  a  road  is  that  you  never  come 
upon  anybody  sitting  close  beside  it.  For  since 
in  damp  climates  people  habitually  avoid  seating 
themselves  on  the  unsophisticated  surface  of  the 
earth,  and  since  neither  stone  dyke  nor  hedgerow 
bank  offers  a  handy  perch,  it  follows  that  any  one 
who  happens  to  be  keeping  an  eye  on  geese  or 
goats,  or  setting  down  a  heavy  creel,  or  waiting 
for  the  loan  of  a  lift,  must  find  a  resting-place  on 
some  boulder  or  boss  more  or  less  off  the  beaten 
track.  Hence  the  passer-by  is  occasionally  given 
the  time  of  day,  or  the  top  of  the  morning,  in  a 
startling  shout,  which  proceeds  from  some  figure 
whose  presence  he  had  not  surmised  ;  as  the  bog, 
like  a  converse  chameleon,  often  has  the  property 
of  subduing  superimposed  objects  to  its  own  vague 
tints. 

Tiiis,  however,  makes  little  difference  on  the 
Lisconncl  road,  so  few  people  pass  along  it.  At 
the  Duffclauc  end   a  donkey  ma\'   now  and   then 


LISCOAWEL.  5 

be  met  carrying  a  tall  pyramid  of  chocolate-brown 
turf-sods,  based  on  two  pendent  panniers,  between 
which  his  large  head  bobs  patiently,  while  beneath 
the  load  his  slender,  tottering  legs  take  quick 
staccato  steps,  each  scarcely  the  length  of  one  of 
his  own  ears  ;  or  an  old  woman  comes  by  \i'ith 
a  creel  projecting  quaintly  under  her  dark-blue 
cloak  ;  or  a  girl  saunters  barefooted  after  a  single 
file  of  gabbling  geese,  knitting  a  long  grey  stock- 
ing as  she  goes,  and  never  seeming  to  lift  her 
eyes  from  the  twinkle  of  her  needles.  But  after 
you  have  gone  a  short  way  the  chances  are  that 
you  will  meet  nothing  more  civilised  and  con- 
versable than  wild  birds  and  very  large  gnats, 
until  you  come  in  sight  of  Lisconnel. 

Just  before  that,  the  road  starts  abruptly,  as  if 
it  had  suddenly  taken  fright  at  its  own  loneliness, 
and  dips  down  a  steepish  slope,  but  quickly  pulls 
itself  up,  finding  that  escape  is  impossible.  The 
hill,  whose  spur  it  has  thus  crossed,  is  very  insig- 
nificant, only  a  knoll-like  knockmvn,  prolonged  on 
the  left  hand  as  a  low  ridge,  soon  dwindling  into 
a  mere  bank,  and  imperceptibly  ceasing  from  the 
face  of  the  resurgent  bog.  Yet  it  probably  fixed 
the  site  of  Lisconnel,  because  it  offered  some 
protection  from  the  full  sweep  of  the  west  wind, 
and  because  its  boulder-strewn  slopes,  and  a 
narrow  strip  at  their  foot,  have  a  covering  of  poor 


6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

light  soil  in  which  potatoes  can  be  set.  Such 
advantages  seldom  recur- within  a  radius  of  several 
miles.  For  when  I  spoke  of  the  spaciousness  of 
Lisconnel  I  did  not  mean  that  there  is  much 
room  in  it  for  you  or  me,  or  anybody  who  must 
needs  have  "  a  bit  of  Ian'  "  to  live  on.  The  craggy 
ridge  is  surmounted  by  a  few  weather-worn  thorn 
bushes,  and  one  ash  tree,  so  strongly  warped  to 
the  eastward  that  a  glance  at  it  on  the  stillest 
day  creates  an  impression  of  blasts  blowing 
roughly.  Also,  after  the  manner  of  trees  thus 
situated,  it  seems  to  draw  down  and  diffuse  the 
very  spirit  of  the  desolate  surrounding  solitudes. 
The  cabins  themselves  look  somehow  as  if  they 
felt  its  spell,  and  were  huddling  together  for 
company.  Three  in  a  row  on  one  side  of  the 
road,  a  couple  fast  by  on  the  other — not  exactly 
facing  them,  because  of  a  swampy  patch — two 
more  a  few  paces  further  on,  with  "  Ody 
Raffcrty's"  and  "the  widow  M'Gurk's,"  which 
stand  "a  trifle  back  o'  the  road"  up  the  hill- 
slopes,  climbing  down  to  join  the  group.  That 
is  all  Lisconncl,  unless  we  count  in  the  O'Driscolls' 
old  dwelling,  whose  roof  has  long  since  top-dressed 
a  neighbouring  field,  and  whose  walls  are  in  some 
places  peered  over  by  the  nettles. 

Cabin    walls   in    Lisconnel   are   built   of  rough 
stones  with  no  mortar,  and  not    mud  enough  to 


LISCONNEL.  7 

prtnlude  a  great  deal  of  unscientific  ventilation, 
which,  maybe,  has  its  advantages,  dearly  paid  for 
through  many  a  shivering  night.  All  its  roofs 
are  thatched,  but  none  of  them  with  straw,  which 
is  too  scarce  for  such  a  use.  Rushes  serve  instead, 
not  quite  satisfactorily,  being  neither  so  warm  nor 
so  durable,  nor  even  so  picturesque,  for  their  pale 
grey-green  looks  crude  and  cold,  and  the  weather 
only  bleaches  it  into  a  more  colourless  drab,  when 
straw  would  be  mellowly  golden  and  russet.  A 
thick  fringe  of  stones  must  hang  along  the  eaves, 
or  roof  and  rafters  would  part  company  the  first 
time  the  wind  got  a  fair  undergrip  of  the  thatch. 
Stones,  as  any  one  can  see,  are  superabundant 
in  Lisconnel,  but  ropes  are  not  so  easily  come  by, 
and  therefore  a  block  is  sometimes  just  dumped 
down  on  the  roof  When  that  is  done,  the  rain- 
water gathers  round  it,  and  the  thatch  begins  to 
rot.  The  largest  window  in  Lisconnel  measures 
not  less  than  nine  inches  square,  and  is  glazed 
with  a  whole  pane  of  real  glass,  through  which 
strangely  distorted  glimpses  of  the  outer  world 
may  be  had  ;  but  opaquer  substitutes  are  not  at  all 
exceptional ;  and  in  every  case  the  door  practicall)' 
shuts  out  the  daylight,  unless  the  wall-chinks  gape 
abnorma  ly  wide.  These  habitations  have  been, 
when  possible,  purposely  built  on  pieces  of  ground 
where  the  rock  lies  bare  in  flat  ledges,  or  hidden 


8  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

by  a  mere  film  of  soil ;  for  the  supply  cf  by  any 
means  tillable  land  is  so  strictly  limited,  that  not 
a  yard  of  it  may  be  diverted  from  the  accommo- 
dation of  "  the  crops  " — poor  little  things.  More- 
over, the  living  rock  underfoot  forms  a  convenient 
ready-made  flooring,  barring  a  slight  unevenness 
here  and  there.  In  the  Sheridans'  cabin,  for  instance, 
a  well-defined  central  elevation  divides  their  room 
into  a  northern  and  a  southern  slope,  and  acts 
as  a  water-shed  during  wet  weather. 

The  immediate  surroundings  of  a  Lisconnel 
cabin  are  not  generally  much  more  untidy  than 
any  other  part  of  the  bog,  but  this  is  perhaps 
due  less  to  the  neatness  of  its  occupants  than 
to  the  scantiness  of  their  materials  for  making  a 
litter.  Similarly,  if  little  waste,  as  a  rule,  goes 
on  at  Lisconnel,  it  may  be  not  from  thrift,  but 
of  necessity.  It  is  right  to  mention  these  facts, 
yet  I  hope  it  will  appear  that  not  all  the  virtues 
practised  there  are  thus  to  be  explained  away. 
A  turf-stack  looms  darkly  somewhere  close  by 
each  door,  and  when  newly  "  saved,"  and  therefore 
at  its  largest,  looks  like  a  solidified  shadow  of 
the  little  house.  A  big  black  pot  sits  so  cus- 
tomarily over  the  threshold,  pried  into  hopefully 
by  disappointed  fowls,  that  when  it  goes  indoors 
the  landscape  seems  unfinished.  Against  one 
end-wall  huddles  a  small    stone-shed,  'A'hich  can 


LISCONNEL.  9 

be  thatched  promiscuously  with  a  few  armfuls 
of  withered  potato-stalks,  if  there  are  any 
creatures  to  keep  in  it.  Oftenest  it  is  empty. 
The  live  stock  of  Lisconncl  never  exceeds  half  a 
dozen  goats,  as  many  pigs,  and  a  few  "  chuckens  "  ; 
and  in  bad  seasons  these  vanish  as  speedily  as 
swallows  after  an  October  frost.  Once  the  place 
owned  a  donkey,  but  that  came  to  grief,  as  I  may 
explain  further  on. 

Therefore  the  hopes  and  cares  of  the  inhabitants 
centre  mainly  in  the  little  grey-dyked  fields  which 
make  a  plaid  pattern  on  the  hillside,  and  along 
a  meagre  belt  beneath  ;  and  this  renders  it  the 
more  regretable  that  their  most  prolific  and 
certain  crop  should  be  such  an  unremunerative 
one.  Stones  upon  stones,  scattered  broadcast 
by  some  malignant  Hundred-handed,  and  peren- 
nially working  up  through  the  thin  soil,  in 
mockery  of  ten-fingered  attempts  to  collect  and 
keep  them  under.  Those  loosely-built  boundary 
walls,  which  intersect  so  frequently  that  the  bit 
of  land  looks  as  if  a  coarsely-meshed  net  had 
been  flung  over  it,  fail  utterly  to  exhaust  the 
supply.  In  each  diminutive  field  a  great  cairn 
of  them  is  painfully  piled  up,  as  big,  sometimes, 
as  the  cabin  to  which  it  belongs,  and  still  the 
husbandman  comes  on  them  at  every  turn  ;  they 
trip  him  up  as  he  stumps  between  his  struggling 


lo  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

potato-drills,  and  grin  maliciously  at  him  through 
the  sparse,  stunted  tangle  of  his  storm-tossed  oats. 
Everywhere  he  can  read,  written  large,  an  answer 
to  his  demand  for  bread. 

The  people  of  Lisconnel  have,  it  is  true,  a  few 
other  minor  resources  by  which  to  supplement 
deficiencies,  and  tide  over  periods  of  stress,  rent- 
days,  for  example,  and  blights,  and  "  buryin's." 
When  harvest  begins,  some  of  the  men  tramp  off 
with  their  sickles  round  their  necks,  and  get  jobs 
in  districts  where  farms  are  on  a  larger  scale. 
They  do  not  go  to  any  great  distance,  for  lack 
of  means  and  enterprise.  And  the  women  knit 
stockings  of  the  harsh  feeling,  dark  yarn,  hanks 
of  which  are  hung  in  festoons  over  the  counter 
of  Corr's  shop  in  the  Town  away  beyond  Duffclane. 
This  might  become  the  source  of  quite  a  hand- 
some revenue,  swelling  to  whole  shillings  a-week, 
since  a  moderate  knitter  can  finish  a  long  stocking 
from  knee  to  toe  in  a  day  ;  only  that  the  demand 
for  the  article  is  sluggish,  and  Mr.  Corr  can  give 
but  small  and  intermittent  orders.  "  Och  no,  Mrs. 
Quigley,  I've  no  call  for  any  such  a  thing  these 
limes  at  all.  Sure,  I've  a  couple  of  pair  of  the 
last  I  took  from  you  hangin'  up  yet ;  and  by  the 
same  token  it's  much  if  them  little  slievecns  of 
moths  haven't  eat  them  into  thread-lace  on  me 
agin  now."     At  which  hearing  Mrs.  Quigley  trails 


LISCONNEL.  1 1 

away  with  her  old  market-basket,  md  one  new 
disappointment  the  more.  There  is  yet  another 
method  by  which  pennies  are  sometimes  turned 
at  Lisconnel,  but  it  might  seem  hardly  fair  to 
mention  that  in  a  general  review  of  the  in- 
habitants' pursuits.  Most  of  them  take  no  more 
active  part  in  it  than  that  of  "  not  letting  on," 
which  is,  after  all,  a  neighbourly  attitude,  often 
expedient  for  us  to  adopt,  whatever  our  position 
in  society. 

So,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  Lisconnel  holds 
together  from  year  to  year,  with  no  particular 
prospect  of  changes  ;  though  it  would  be  safe 
enough  to  prophesy  that  should  any  occur,  they 
will  tend  towards  the  falling  in  of  derelict  roofs, 
and  the  growth  of  weeds  round  deserted  hearth- 
stones and  crumbling  walls.  You  may  see  the 
ground-plan  of  more  considerable  places  than 
Lisconnel  sketched  in  this  forlorn  fashion  on  many 
a  townland  thereabouts.  It  would  not  be  easy  to 
judge  from  their  aspect  to-day  how  long  it  is  since 
these  cabins  were  newl}-  built,  for  they  look  as  if 
they  might  have  grown  up  contemporaneously 
with  the  weather-fending  hiockawn  itself,  which  is 
clearly  impossible.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  seventy 
years  ago  none  of  them  existed.  However,  soon 
after  that  they  were  run  up  rather  hurriedly,  and 
tenanted    by   some   people  who,  it  is  said,  came 


12  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

thither  reluctantly  from  a  more  southerly  district, 
where  there  are  now  flourishing  grass  farms. 
Whatever  their  private  views  on  the  matter  may 
have  been,  the  destiny  of  these  persons  was 
evidently  appropriate  enough,  for  Lisconnel  is 
poor  and  insignificant,  and  we  are  told  that  the 
gods  ever  bring  like  to  like.  So  the  new-comers 
settled  down,  where  some  of  their  descendants 
remain  to  this  day. 

Indeed  until  within  a  few  months  since,  one  of 
the  original  colonists  was  still  living  there,  a  very 
old  body,  much  given  to  reminiscences  of  the 
home  she  had  left  so  long  ago  that  she  should 
have  remembered  it  well.  But  hardly  credible 
were  the  statements  she  made  about  that  country- 
side, with  its  meadows  where  the  grass  stood 
higher  than  the  tallest  rushes  out  on  the  bog 
yonder,  and  its  potato  and  barley  fields  you  could 
scarce  see  from  one  end  to  the  other  of,  they  were 
that  sizeable  ;  where  there  were  cows  and  calves, 
and  firkins  of  butter,  let  alone  lashins  and  lavins  of 
skim-milk  and  whey  ;  and  where  a  big  potful  of 
( a':meal  stirabout  was  set  down  for  the  breakfast 
every  morning,  and  as  often  as  not  there  would  be 
a  bit  of  bacon  frying  for  the  dinner  on  a  Sunday. 
She  expected  it  to  be  believed  that  she  had  lived 
in  a  house  containing  three  rooms,  one  of  them 
with  a  boarded  floor,  and  as  corroborative  evidence 


LI  SCO  NN EL.  13 

would  point  to  a  battered  pewter  pint  mug,  which 
used  to  hang  on  a  dresser  in  that  apartment. 
Most  of  her  hearers  accepted  this  as  perfectly 
conclusive  testimony.  "  And  I  mind  a  little  black 
hin  I  had  of  me  own,  wid  a  top  knot  on  her. 
Many's  the  handful  of  dirty  oats  I've  thrown  the 
cratur.  Sure  it's  not  to  the  hins  we'd  be  throwin' 
them,  childer,  these  times,  if  we  had  them  what- 
iver." 

But  now  that  she  is  gone,  these  traditions  will 
share  the  fate  of  all  such  legendary  lore,  growing 
stranger  and  wilder  and  more  obviously  unhis- 
torical  with  the  lapse  of  time,  until  they  add  just 
a  tinge  of  wistfulness  to  conjectures  about  the 
receded  past.  "  Four  cows,  bedad,  and  a  bit  of  a 
cart  drivin'  in  to  the  market — well  tubbe  sure,  but 
it's  the  quare  ould  romancin'  she  had  out  of  her." 
Whereas  Lisconnel  stands  here  in  the  light  of 
common  day,  a  hard  fact  with  no  fantastic  myths 
to  embellish  or  disprove  it 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  WINDFALL. 

The  widow  M'Gurk  has  managed  her  own  farm  of 
more  than  half  an  acre  ever  since  her  husband's 
death,  which  took  place  one  spring  several  years 
ago,  just  when  he  was  about  to  get  in  his  seed 
potatoes.  They  weighed  very  much  on  his  mind 
during  his  last  hours,  for  he  gravely  doubted  the 
success  of  his  wife's  unsupervised  operations,  and 
how  was  she  going  to  live  at  all  if  the  crop  failed 
on  her  ?  She  tried  to  pacify  him  by  assuring  him 
that  the  ground  was  frozen  as  hard  as  bullets,  and 
all  the  men  in  Connaught  couldn't  work  a  stroke 
if  they  were  outside  in  the  field  ;  but  he  was  not 
deceived,  and  would  have  got  up  if  he  had  been 
able  to  stand  on  his  feet.  Pitaties  were  all  that  day 
the  burden  of  so  much  discourse  as  is  possible  to  any 
one  with  double  pneumonia,  which  his  neighbours 
diagnosed  as  "  a  quare  wakeness  on  his  chest "  ; 
but  about  sutisctting   F'ather  Rooney,  summoned 


A    WINDFALL.  15 

by  Mad  Bell,  rode  up  on  his  old  cream-coloured 
pony,  and  he  gave  the  sick  man  some  consolation. 

"  Well,  well,  M'Gurk,"  he  said,  "  she'll  have  good 
neighbours  to  assist  her  any  way,  and  she'll  do 
grandly,  with  the  blessing  of  God.  When  I  was 
coming  along  just  now,  I  think  I  noticed  one  of 
the  boys  getting  across  the  dyke  ir  to  your  bit  of 
field  there,  with  a  graip  over  his  shoulder,  like  as  if 
he  was  about  doing  a  job  for  you." 

M'Gurk  sought  to  verify  this  cheering  news  by 
looking  through  the  span  of  window,  which  was 
near  his  head,  but  as  it  happened  to  be  glazed 
with  the  lid  of  a  tin  biscuit-canister  he  could  not 
do  so,  and  had  to  take  the  statement  on  trust. 
However  he  said,  "  Glory  be,"  and  thenceforward 
seemed  "  aisier  like  "  until  the  small  hours  next 
morning,  when  he  grew  easier  still. 

Mrs,  M'Gurk's  subsequent  career,  though  not 
exactly  grand,  even  for  Lisconnel,  has  in  a 
measure,  at  least,  justified  Father  Rooney's 
prognostications.  The  people  have  been  ready 
enough  to  do  good  turns  for  a  neighbour  who 
takes  high  social  rank  as  a  lone  widdy,  without 
chick  or  child  belongin'  to  her  in  this  world,  the  . 
crathur.  But  her  ov/n  peculiarities  sometimes  ran 
counter  to  their  kind  intentions.  She  was  not  a 
native  of  that  country  side,  and  had  tiavclled  to  it 
along  a   path   declining   from   better  days,   most 


1 6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

grievous  for  her  to  tread,  as  she  had  the  proud  and 
independent  spirit  through  which  the  steps  of 
those  coming  down  in  the  world  are  vexed  with  a 
thousand  thorns.  After  more  than  half  a  lifetime, 
her  heart  still  turned  to  the  place  where  she  had 
spent  her  long  young  years  of  comparative 
prosperity,  before  her  father  "  got  drinking."  She 
could  not  bring  herself  to  accept  the  lo.ver  level 
as  a  permanent  one,  or  to  abandon  an  absurdly 
palpable  fiction,  according  to  which  she  was 
recognised  as  well-to-do  and  in  want  of  nobody's 
help.  Hence,  whenever  she  was  known  to  be  in 
straits,  the  neighbours  had  to  consider  not  only 
their  own  ways  and  means,  generally  a  puzzling 
question,  but  also  susceptibilities  on  the  widow's 
part,  which  often  proved  no  less  embarrassing  and 
restrictive.  A  little  too  much  outspokenness,  a 
little  over-precipitancy  in  taking  the  hint  which 
she  was  sometimes  lothfully  constrained  to  let  fall, 
would  convert  any  attempted  relief  into  grounds  of 
dire  offence. 

It  would  not  do,  for  example,  to  come  bouncing 
in,  as  Judy  Ryan  did  one  evening,  bringing  a 
pailful  of  potatoes,  culled  cautiously,  though  in  no 
grudging  mood,  from  a  slender  store — if  Judy 
threw  back  a  handful  at  the  last  moment,  it  was 
not  her  will  consented — and  saying  :  "  Och  sure, 
Mrs.  M'Gurk,  I've  heard  you're  run  out  o'  pitaties  ; 


A   WINDFALL,  \^ 

thy,  it's  starved  you  must  be,  woman  alive,  diver 
and  clane.  Here's  an  odd  few  I've  brought  you  in 
th'ould  bucket,  and  they'd  be  more,  on'y  we're 
gettin'  shortish  ourselves."  Judy  was  immediately 
informed,  with  a  lamentable  disregard  of  truth, 
that  Mrs.  M'Gurk  had  more  pitaties  than  she  could 
use  in  a  month  of  Sundays,  and  was  at  the  same 
time  given  to  understand,  with  an  impolite 
absence  of  circumlocution,  that  the  sooner  she 
removed  herself  and  her  ould  bucket,  the  better 
it  would  be.  After  which  the  Pat  Ryans  and  the 
widow  M'Gurk  were  not  on  speaking  terms  for 
many  a  long  day.  Then,  on  another  occasion,  she 
gloomiily  dug  her  steep  potato-patch  all  over  again 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  in  consequence  had  her 
potatoes  a  good  fortnight  late,  whereby  half  of 
them  rotted  in  a  spell  of  very  wet  weather,  which 
occurred  before  they  were  fit  to  lift,  simply  because 
Hugh  Quigley  had  finished  trenching  the  ground 
for  them  without  consulting  her,  thinking  that 
since  she  seemed  whiles  troubled  with  the  rheu- 
matics, forby  not  being  altogether  so  soople  as  she 
was,  she  would  deem  it  a  pleasant  surprise  to  find 
the  task  unbeknownst  taken  off  her  hands. 

Incidents  such  as  these  led  Lisconnel  to  opine 
that  the  widow  M'Gurk  was  "  as  conthrary  as  the 
two  inds  of  a  rapin-hook,"  and  their  tendency 
was,  not  unnaturally,  to  diminish  her  friends'  zeal 

3 


1 8  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

\  p  )n  her  behalf.  Yet  she  never  so  far  ah'enated 
their  sympathies  but  that  she  found  some  of  them 
ready  to  stand  b  -  her  at  a  pinch,  and,  as  they  said, 
"  humour  her  ti  e  best  way  they  could." 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  the  old  woman  who  re- 
membered impossible  things,  was  most  successful 
in  this  respect  ;  which  need  not  be  wondered  at, 
since  people  regarded  her  as  a  person  who  pos- 
sessed more  gifts  than  a  turn  for  romancing.  These 
were  at  times  summed  up  in  a  statement  that  she 
had  a  way  with  her.  The  way  which  she  commonly 
used  in  her  delicate  transactions  with  the  widow 
M'Gurk  was  to  borrow  the  loan  from  her  of  a  jug 
or  a  mug.  What  she  could  want  with  one  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  conjecture  plausibly,  for  she 
had  an  assortment  of  them,  much  more  numerous 
than  any  imaginable  emergencies  could  demand, 
ranged  upon  her  own  smoke-blackened*  shelves. 
Small  articles  of  coarse  crockery  would  seem  to  be 
the  one  thing  in  which  Lisconnel  is  sometimes 
superfluous.  However,  the  fact  is  that  Mrs.  Kil- 
foyle ever  and  anon  toiled  up  the  rush-tussocked 
slope  to  Mrs.  M'Gurk's  abode  on  the  hillside — 
which  she  certainly  would  not  have  done  for 
nothing,  being  old,  and,  though  a  light  weight,  less 
nimble  of  foot  than  of  wit — with  no  ostensible  pur- 
pose other  than  to  negotiate  such  a  loan.  It  is 
true  that  on  these  occasions  she  was  apt  to   be 


A   WINDFALL.  ig 

struck  by  a  sudden  thought  just  as  she  took 
leave. 

"Well,  I  must  be  shankin'  ofif  wid  oneself,  Mrs. 
M'Gurk,  and  thank  you  kindly,  ma'am.  Sure  it's 
troubhn'  you  I  am  too  often." 

"Not  at  all, not  at  all,"  from  Mrs.  M'Gurk, whose 
gaunt  head  rose  two  inches  higher  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  conferring  a  favour — "  don't  think  to 
be  mentionin'  it,  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  ;  you're  as  welcome 
as  the  light  o'  day  to  any  sticks  of  things  I've 
got." 

"  I  suppose  now,  ma'am,  you  couldn't  be  takin' 
a  couple  o'  stone  o'  praties  off  of  us  ?  Ours  do  be 
keepin'  that  badly,  we  can't  use  them  quick  enough, 
and  you  could  be  payin'  us  back  when  the  new 
ones  come  in,  accordin'  as  was  convanicnt.  If  you 
would,  I'd  send  one  o'  the  childer  up  wid  them  as 
soon  as-I  git  home.  Sorra  the  trouble  in  it  at  all, 
and  thank  you  kindly,  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  and  good 
evenin'  to  you,  ma'am."  Then,  trotting  down  the 
hill :  "  I'll  bid  the  lads  to  be  stirrin'  themselves. 
Niver  a  bit  the  cratur's  after  gittin'  this  day." 

Or  it  might  be :  "  Good  evenin',  then,  Mrs. 
M'Gurk,  and  I'll  be  careful  wid  your  jug.  I  was 
thinkin',  be  the  way,  you  maybe  wouldn't  object  to 
the  lads  lavin'  you  up  a  few  creels  of  turf  now  our 
stack's  finished  buildin',  just  to  keep  them  quite, 
for    it's   beyond    themselves   they   git   entirely,   if 


20  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

they're  not  at  some  Job.  They  do  have  their 
mother  distracted  wid  their  divihnents,  the  little 
spalpeens." 

I  believe  the  widow  was  never  known  to  take 
offence  at  any  of  these  after-thoughts,  though  I  am 
not  sure  that  she  did  not  now  and  then  dimly  sur- 
mise a  stratagem,  which  she  would  have  resented 
fiercely  had  the  contriver  been  anybody  else  than 
this  little  old  woman  with  her  white  hair  like 
carded  bog-cotton,  and  a  sweet  high-piping  voice 
like  a  small  chicken's.  But  even  the  other  neigh- 
bours sometimes  managed  things  adroitly,  for  Lis- 
connel  is  not  deficient  in  tact  when  it  takes  time  to 
consider.  Still,  that  tug-of-war  between  pride  and 
penury  could  not  fail  to  produce  harassing  inci- 
dents, and  the  widow  M'Gurk  swallowed  many  an 
ungrudgingly  bestowed  morsel  with  bitter  feelings 
of  reluctance,  which  rather  more  or  less  magnani- 
mity would  have  spared  her. 

But  one  day  she  found  herself  elevated  above 
these  mortifications  by  a  little  wave  of  affluence, 
which  swelled  up  suddenly  under  her  feet.  It  was 
a  still  November  morning,  with  a  smooth  leaden 
sky,  and  wisps  of  paler  mist  hardly  moving  on 
the  sombre  face  of  the  bog  in  the  distance  ;  not  a 
morning  that  seemed  to  promise  anything  out  of 
the  common,  yet  it  brought  a  letter  to  the  widow 
M'Gurk.    A  letter  is  almost  as  infrequent  an  occur- 


A   WINDFALL.  31 

rence  in  Lisconnel  as  a  burglary  in  a  village  of 
average  liveliness,  and  it  usually  gets  there  by 
circuitous  and  dilatory  modes  of  conveyance,  for 
which  the  postal  regulations  are  not  responsible. 

But  the  contents  of  Mrs.  M'Gurk's  blue  envelope 
were  fully  as  astonishing  as  its  appearance  had 
been.  They  consisted  of  a  money-order  accom- 
panied by  a  document  which  explained  that  this 
was  the  share  accruing  to  her  from  the  divided 
estate  of  some  unknown  kinsman,  who  had  died, 
possessed,  as  was  apparent,  of  property,  in  Con- 
necticut, U.S.A.  And  the  money-order  was  for 
the  amount  oi  fifteen  shillings. 

Do  not  suppose  that  Mrs.  M'Gurk  ascertained 
these  things  at  a  glance,  as  we  might  read  a  para- 
graph in  a  newspaper;  the  deciphering  of  them 
proved  a  stiff  task  for  a  more  knowledgable  person 
than  herself — though,  mind  you,  it  was  a  quare 
piece  of  print  would  bother  her,  or  handwriting 
either,  if  it  was  wrote  anyways  raisonable.  Her 
first  impression,  in  truth,  was  that  she  had  received 
some  ominous  notice  or  "  warnin'  "  about  her  rent, 
which  would  imply  that  she  stood  in  imminent 
danger  or  being  "  put  out  of  it,"  an  apprehension 
prone  to  haunt  the  mind  of  the  dweller  in  Liscon- 
nel ;  and  winged  with  this  mirk-feathered  fear  she 
sped  down  to  consult  her  nearest  neighbours,  the 
Kilfoyles.     So  great  was  her  hurry  that  Mrs.  Brian 


22  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

Kilfoyle,  rinsing  a  pot  outside  their  door,  lemarked 
to  her  mother-in-law  within  : 

"  Here's  the  widdy  M'Gurk  leppin'  down  the  hill 
like  an  ould  spancelled  goat.  Be  the  powers  she 
was  narely  on  her  head  that  time  over  a  wisp  of 
bent-grass.  It's  much  if  she's  not  after  scaldin'  her 
hand  wid  the  kettle,  for  she  seems  to  have  got  a  bit 
o'  white  rag  on  it." 

As  neither  of  them  could  enligl.te  i  or  reassure 
her,  Brian  was  shouted  for  from  his  adjacent  dig- 
ging, and  even  he  had  to  sit  for  a  considerable 
time  on  the  dyke,  with  the  paper  spread  down  in 
front  of  him  between  two  broad  thumbs,  and  with 
a  little  breeze  blowing  through  his  red  beard,  be- 
fore he  solved  the  problem.  A  small  crowd  had 
assembled  to  hear  the  result,  and  was  properly  im- 
pressed by  the  magnitude  of  the  riches  which  had 
flowed  into  Lisconnel.  People  are  generally  loth 
to  be  in  any  way  baulked  of  a  strong  sensation, 
and  so  when  Mrs.  Sheridan  said,  after  prolonged 
calculatory  mutterings,  "Fifteen  shillin's  —  sure 
that's  somcthin'  short  of  a  pound,  isn't  it  now  ?  " 
there  was  a  disposition  to  resent  the  remark,  albeit 
she  really  spoke  with  no  wish  to  belittle,  but 
merely  from  a  habit  of  estimating  things  negatively. 

"  It's  more  than  her  half-year's  rent,  so  it  is,  any- 
how, whativer  it  may  be  short  of,"  said  Pat  Ryan 
sententiousiy. 


A  WINDFALL.  23 

*■  May  the  divil  dance  upon  the  rint,"  rejoined  his 
brother  Tim,  "  but  I'm  wishin'  you  good  luck  along 
wid  your  disthribited  fortune,  Mrs.  M'Gurk." 

Public  sentiment  was  on  the  whole  with  Tim.    Of 
course  if  this   phenomenal  influx    of  wealth    had 
confined  itself  less  exclusively  to  a  single  channel, 
satisfaction  would  have  been  livelier  ;  pennies  jing- 
ling in  your  own   pocket  ring  more  silverly  than 
shillings  in  that  of  your  neighbour,  and  will  do  so 
until  coins  may  bear  the  date  of  the  millennium. 
Still,  the  widow's  legacy  was  a  popular  measure  in 
Lisconncl,  and  for  the  time  being  created  among 
its  inhabitants  a  strong  feeling  in  favour  of  For- 
tune's  administration   of   affairs.      Their   motives, 
however,  were   not    purely    disinterested,   because 
some    of  them,   more    especially   the    women    and 
girls,   would  for  several   ensuing  weeks   retain  an 
irrational  conviction  that  the  probabilities  of  such 
a  letter  coming   to    their  own    address  had   been 
materially  hcii;htened.      Only    by  degrees    would 
these  illogical  persons  cease  to  experience  a  faint 
twinge  of  disappointment  when  some  casual  Fat  or 
Mick,  returning  from  the  Town,  appeared,  as  might 
have  been   expected,  empty-handed.      It  was   so 
easy  now  to  imagine  some  one  again  bawling  along 
the  road  :  "Where's  Mrs.  So-and-so?     Sure  there's 
a  letter  for  her  they  gave  me  down  beyant." 

There  were  a  few  exceptions  to  this  prevalence 


24  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

of  generous  sympathy.  I  fear  that  Mrs.  Quigley 
cannot  be  acquitted  of  an  attempt  to  dull  an 
envious  pang  by  rubbing  the  edge  off  Mrs. 
M'Gurk's  joy,  when  she  said,  after  a  critical  survey 
of  the  flimsy  paper-scrap  in  which  it  was  at  present 
enfolded  :  "  Well  now,  Fd  liefer  ha'  had  the  money 
down  straight,  or  at  all  ivints  one  of  them  blue- 
and-white  pattron,  wid  the  plain  black  figures. 
I've  heard  tell  there  does  be  ivery  manner  ot 
botheration  sometimes  afore  you  can  git  that  sort 
ped — if  you  iver  git  it  at  all." 

Mrs.  M'Gurk's  face  fell  as  rapidly  as  a  barometer 
in  a  hurricane,  but  before  it  had  time  to  lengthen 
more  than  an  inch  or  so :  "  Divil  the  botheration," 
Brian  said.  **  Herself  below  at  the  office  '11  just 
sling  the  amount  at  you  out  of  her  little  windy- 
box,  same  as  if  it  was  a  penn'orth  of  brown  sugar 
over  the  counter  at  Corr's.  They  might  be  axin' 
you  to  put  your  name  to  somethin',  but  sure  any 
ould  scrawm  'U  do,  and  they'll  settle  it  up  them- 
selves inside.     That's  all  the  trouble's  in  it." 

"  Och  well,  they'll  be  takin'  something  off  of  it 
for  sartin',"  persisted  Mrs.  Quigley,  reduced  to  a 
but  paltry  and  meagre  solace  ;  "  they're  niver  for 
payin'  one  the  full  amount  of  anythin'.  Pennies 
they'll  be  takin'  off." 

But  Brian  said  with  confidence :  "  I  question 
will  they.     And  at  all  ivints  a  pinny  or  so's  but  a 


A  WINDFALL.  aj 

trifle  here  or  there.  It's  yourself  *ud  be  countin' 
the  spill  ins  when  they  were  pourin'  you  out  a  sup 
o'  drink." 

So  Mrs.  Quigley  returned,  out  of  humour,  to 
her  morning's  occupation,  which  happened  to  be 
minding  a  small  baby,  patching  an  old  red  woollen 
petticoat  with  bits  of  an  older  blay  calico  shirt, 
wishing  that  the  rheumatiz  hadn't  got  such  a 
hould  on  her  right  elbow,  and  wondering  by  what 
manner  of  manes  they  could  contrive  to  use  only 
the  full  of  the  big  pot  of  potatoes  daily,  when 
every  other  potato  was  bad  in  the  middle,  while 
Mrs.  M'Gurk,  her  faith  in  her  windfall  not  appre- 
ciably shaken,  resumed  possession  of  her  postal- 
order,  now  imprinted  blackly  with  many  unofficial 
stamps. 

When  the  .^schylcan  Hermes  said  that  Pro- 
metheus would  not  be  tolerable  if  he  were  pros- 
perous, he  voiced  a  sentiment  which  most  of  us 
have  felt  at  times,  though  we  may  never  have 
expressed  it  so  frankly,  and  which  appears  rather 
melancholy  and  rather  grotesque,  if  one  considers 
it  deeply  enough.  Not  that  this  remark  has  any 
special  application  to  the  widow  M'Gurk,  whatever 
may  have  been  the  case  with  regard  to  the  pioneer 
philanthropist.  Two  or  three  of  her  neighbours, 
it  is  true,  did  suspect  her  of  seeming  "  sot  up  like  " 
by  her  accession  of  wealth.     But  this  was  merely 


26  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

their  imagination.  She  really  was  not  unduly  up* 
lifted,  being  indeed  one  of  the  people  in  whom  a 
sudden  shock  of  good-luck  awakens  a  keen  and 
compunctious  sense  of  their  neighbours'  less  happy 
circumstances.  When  this  half  remorseful  feeling 
is  retrospective  in  its  action,  linking  itself  with 
memories  of  those  who  can  be  no  longer  touched 
by  any  freak  of  fortune,  it  serves  as  a  very  effectual 
safeguard  against  over- elation.  And  that  is  not  at 
all  an  uncommon  experience  among  the  dwellers 
in  places  like  Lisconnel. 

The  widow  M'Gurk,  then,  bore  her  fifteen  shillings 
meekly,  and  even  listened  with  patience  to  the 
conflicting  advice  which  her  neighbours  liberally 
gave  her  on  the  urgent  question  of  their  investment. 
Four  shillings  must  go  "  body  and  bones  "  to  pay 
off  a  long-standing  account  at  Corr's — that  was 
one  fixed  point ;  but  with  respect  to  laying  out  the 
remainder  of  the  sum  there  were  as  many  minds  as 
there  were  women  in  Lisconnel,  and  rather  more. 
On  the  whole  she  seemed  most  inclined  to  adopt 
the  suggestion  offered  by  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle. 

"  If  I  was  in  your  coat.  Mrs.  M'Gurk,"  she  said, 
"I've  a  great  notion  I'd  be  gittin'  meself  three  or 
four  stone,  or  maybe  half  a  barrel,  of  male — oaten- 
male,  I  mane,  mg,'am,  not  the  jella  Injin  thrash, 
that's  fitter  for  pigs  than  human  craturs — God  for- 
give me  for  sayin'  so.     That  'ud  come  cxpinsive 


A   IVLWFALL.  27 

on  you,  ma'am,  I  know  ;  but  then  'twould  put  you 
over  the  worst  of  the  winter  grand.  Sure  there's 
nothin'  more  delightful  of  a  perishin'  night  than  a 
sup  of  oatmale  gruel  wid  a  taste  o'  sour  milk 
through  it — nothin'  so  iligant,  unless  it  might  be  a 
hot  cup  o'  tay." 

Nobody  believed  Peter  Sheridan  when  he  alleged 
that  if  the  money  were  his,  he'd  just  slip  it  away 
somewhere  safe,  and  have  it  ready  to  hand  towards 
the  Lady-Day  rent.  Such  unnatural  prudence 
could  be  supposed  in  no  one  when  actually  brought 
to  the  test.  "  It  was  aisy  talkin',  and  he  himself 
nivcr  before  the  world  wid  a  thruppinny  bit." 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Mrs.  M'Gurk  had  long  before 
sunset  planned  a  shopping  expedition  to  the  Town 
for  the  very  next  day  ;  and  it  was  arranged  that 
the  widow  Doyne's  Stacey  should  accompany  her, 
and  help  her  with  her  load,  which  people  under- 
stood would  consist  mainly  of  a  heavy  meal-bag. 
An  early  start  was  necessary,  for  daylight  had 
shrunk  nearly  to  its  shortest  measure,  and  the 
Town  lies  a  good  step  beyond  even  far-off  Duff- 
clane,  which,  scarcely  surpassing  Lisconncl  in  size, 
and  making  no  better  attempt  at  a  shop  than  a 
cabin  with  two  loaves  filling  one  window,  and  half 
a  dozen  shrivelled  oranges  and  a  glass  of  sugar- 
sticks  enriching  the  other,  gives  little  scope  for  the 
operations   of  the  capitalist.     If  ycu   live  at   Lis* 


2«  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

connel,  it  is  convenient  to  understand  that  "  down 
below"   means    Duffclane,    and    "down    beyant," 
.  Ballybrosna,  pre-eminently  the  Town. 

There  were  still  thin  fiery  lines  quivering  low 
down  on  the  rim  of  the  ashen-grey  eastern  sky, 
and  to  the  westward  the  shadow  of  a  great  dark 
wing  still  seemed  to  brood  over  the  bog,  when  Mrs. 
M'Gurk,  wearing  a  hooded  cloak,  borrowed  from 
Mrs.  Sheridan,  and  bearing  a  battered  osier-basket 
with  a  cord  handle,  loaned  by  Big  Anne,  stood 
ready  equipped  for  her  journey.  Before  she  could 
start,  however,  she  had  to  make  a  round  of  calls 
upon  her  acquaintances  to  inquire  whether  she 
could  do  e'er  a  thing  for  them  down  beyant. 
This  is  a  long-established  social  observance,  which 
to  omit  would  have  been  a  grave  breach  of  etiquette ; 
yet,  like  other  social  observances,  it  sometimes 
becomes  rather  trying.  On  the  present  occasion 
one  might  almost  have  fancied  a  touch  of  irony  in 
the  polite  question.  There  were  so  many  things 
she  could  have  done  for  them  if — but  there  was 
much  virtue  in  that  "  if"  More  just  then  than 
usual,  for  the  harvest  had  been  indifferent,  and  an 
early  spell  of  cold  weather  had  brought  keenly 
home  to  the  inhabitants  of  Lisconnel  the  fact  that 
they  stood  upon  the  verge  of  the  long  winter. 
And  the  people  were  afraid  of  it.  In  the  face  of 
those    white    starving    da)'s    and    black    perishing 


A  WINDFALL.  S9 

nights  they  durst  not  break  into  their  queer  Httle 
hoards  of  pence — corners  of  "  hankerchers,"  or 
high-hung  jugs,  or  even  chinks  in  the  wall — any 
more  than  they  would  have  opened  their  door  with 
an  unmetaphorical  wolf  howling  expectantly  some- 
where fast  by.  So  the  widow  M'Gurk  received 
only  few  and  trivial  commissions  :  a  penn'orth  of 
housewife  thread,  a  couple  of  farthing  match-boxes, 
and  the  like.  Mrs.  Quigley  was  on  the  point  of 
bespeaking  half  a  stone  of  meal,  but  drew  back  at 
the  last  moment,  and  resolved  to  do  with  potatoes, 
though  her  husband,  who  had  begun  to  scent 
stirabout  for  breakfast,  looked  cast  down  as  he 
tramped  off  with  his  graip.  And  Mrs.  Pat  Ryan 
knew  that  her  children  were  expecting  a  penny 
among  them  to  send  for  sugarsticks,  so  she  told 
them  angrily  to  quit  out  of  that  from  under  her 
feet  and  be  minding  the  goat.  For  at  such  times 
the  heart  of  the  head  of  affairs  has  to  be  hardened, 
and  the  process  often  incidentally  gives  a  rough 
edge  to  the  temper. 

The  last  people  Mrs.  M'Gurk  called  upon  were 
the  Mick  Ryans.  Old  Mick,  who  had  long  been 
past  his  work,  and  indeed  "  past  himself  entirely," 
as  his  neighbours  put  it,  was  seated  on  the  dyke 
near  the  door,  waiting  till  "  they  were  a  bit  redded 
up  inside,"  and  thinking  vaguely  that  the  wind  felt 
cold.     His  smoke-dried,  furrowed  face  had  hardly 


30  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

more  expression  in  it  than  the  little  potato  patch 
that  sloped  up  behind  him  ;  but  all  at  once  a 
gleam  came  into  his  eyes,  and  he  said  very  alertly  : 

"  And  is  it  to  the  Town  ye're  goin',  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Ah,  well  now,  father,  what  'ud  you  be  after  at 
all  ? "  said  Mrs.  Mick,  his  daughter-in-law,  un- 
easily ;  for  old  Ryan  was  fumbling  in  his  pockets, 
where  in  bygone  days  there  used  sometimes  to  be 
pennies,  but  where  there  never  were  any  now. 

"  Tobaccy,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  and  fumbled 
on. 

"  Whethen  now,  goodness  grant  me  patience, 
what  talk  have  you  about  tobaccy  these  times,  man 
alive?"  said  Mrs.  Mick,  with  slightly  threadbare 
good-humour.  "  Where'd  you  be  gittin'  a  notion 
of  tobaccy?  Sure  Mrs.  M'Gurk" — here  signalling 
with  a  gutta-percha  grimace  to  her  visitor  for  cor- 
roboration— "  won't  be  setLin'  fut  within  miles  of  a 
tobaccy-shop.  She's  just  goin'  after  a  bag  o' 
male.  And  Himself  might  be  gittin'  you  a  bit 
comin'  on  the  New  Year.  Didn't  he  bring  you  a 
grand  twist  on'y  last  Lady  Day  ? " 

The  old  man,  partly  discouraged  by  the  fruitless- 
ness  of  his  researches  in  his  pocket,  and  partly  by 
the  haziness  of  the  prospect  held  out  to  him, 
seemed  to  let  the  idea  drop,  and  his  face  became 
nearly  as  vacant  a  tract  as  before,  with  perhaps 
a   shadow   on   the   furrows.     And    his   unmarried 


A   WINDFALL,  3» 

daughter,  who  had  also  been  groping  in  her  pocket 
but  had  found  nothing  to  the  purpose  there,  said, 
under  her  breath,  "  The  crathur " — two  words, 
which  in  Lisconnel  so  often  sum  up  one's  judgment 
upon  a  neighbour's  character  and  condition. 

The  widow  M'Gurk  and  Stacey  Doyne  could 
not  be  expected  home  much  before  dark,  and 
nobody  began  to  look  out  for  them  until  quite  one 
o'clock.  The  ridge  of  the  knockawn  behind  the 
widow's  cabin  commands  an  ample  stretch  of  the 
road  in  both  directions,  and  from  that  point  of 
vantage  there  is  generally  some  one  on  the  look- 
out, most  likely  for  a  mere  pastime,  though 
watchers  there  have  been  sorely  in  earnest.  But 
the  probable  proceedings  of  the  two  travellers, 
the  various  stages  of  their  journey,  and  all  the 
circumstances  connected  therewith,  furnished  un- 
usually abundant  material  for  discussion  about  the 
doors  and  beneath  the  thatch  of  Lisconnel  all 
through  this  quiet  November  day,  not  otherwise 
rich  in  incident,  as  nothing  more  noteworthy 
occurred  than  a  slight  difference  of  opinion 
between  Mrs.  Quigley  and  Judy  Ryan  respecting 
some  hens,  and  an  acute  yet  transitory  excitement 
roused  when  Mrs.  Sheridan's  two-year-old  Joe  was 
almost  swept  over  the  black  edge  of  a  bog-hole  by 
the  trailing  tether-rope  of  an  unruly  goat.  Neigh- 
bours meeting:  were  at  no  loss  for  a  remark  when 


32  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

they  could  say  :  "  They'll  be  better  than  half-ways 
there  by  now,"  or  "  I  wonder  what  Corr  '11  be 
chargin'  her  the  stone  for  the  male,"  or  "  I'm 
after  axin'  her  to  try  was  there  a  chanst  of  anybody 
wantin'  me  couple  of  speckletty  pullets.  They've 
given  over  layin'  on  me,  and  I've  scarce  a  bit  o' 
feedin'  for  them  up  here  at  all  ;  when  they  smell 
our  pitaties  boiled,  they're  in  after  them  like 
aigles,  fit  to  swally  them  out  o'  the  pot." 

As  time  wore  on,  these  speculations  began  to 
take  a  gloomy  tone,  for  Mrs.  M'Gurk  was  much 
later  returning  than  had  been  anticipated,  which 
naturally  suggested  some  mishap.  They  might 
have  lost  the  money-order,  that  was  the  favourite 
hypothesis  ;  or  maybe  the  people  at  the  post-office 
— Mrs.  Quigley  reverted,  but  now  without  malign 
intent,  to  her  original  theory — would  have  nothing 
to  say  to  it  good  or  bad.  About  five  o'clock,  when 
it  was  quite  dark,  a  gossoon  at  the  Mick  Ryans' 
supposed,  with  a  grin,  that  they  might  "  ha'  met 
somethin'  quare  comin'  by  Classon's  Boreen." 
Whereupon  Mrs.  Mick,  sitting  in  the  dusky  back- 
ground, might  have  been  seen  to  bless  herself 
hurriedly,  while  Sally  Sheridan,  who  stood  near 
the  open  door,  edged  several  steps  further  into 
the  room  :  for  the  place  mentioned  is  an  ill- 
reputed  bit  of  road.  And  the  next  time  the  rising 
wind  came  round  the  hill  with  a  hoot  and  a  keen, 


A   WINDFALL.  33 

all  the  women  started  and  said  :  **  Och  !  the  Laws 
bless  us,  what  was  that  ?  " 

At  last,  just  as  Mrs.  Doyne  was  pointing  ci.t 
how  easily  one  of  them  might  have  happened  to 
put  her  foot  in  a  hole  in  the  dark,  and  break  the 
leg  of  her,  the  same  way  that  O'Hanlon's  son  did 
a  twelvemonth  since,  bringing  back  a  heifer  from 
the  fair,  and  he  lying  out  on  the  roadside  all  night, 
and  the  baste  trapesed  off  home  with  herself  as 
contented  as  you  please — hailing  shouts,  which 
softened  into  a  gabbling  hum  at  a  closer  range,  put 
an  end  to  all  such  surmises. 

Mrs.  M'Gurk's  shopping  had  been  done  on 
liberal  lines,  to  judge  by  the  bulging  of  the  basket, 
which  she  set  down  on  the  first  sufficiently  flat- 
topped  dyke  of  Lisconnel,  while  she  took  a  tem- 
porary rest,  and  her  friends  skimmed  the  cream 
of  the  day's  adventures.  The  ill-fitting  lid  covered 
an  interesting  miscellany,  which  the  uncertain 
moonlight  made  it  difficult  to  inspect  and  "  price  " 
satisfactorily:  in  Lisconnel  no  newly-imported  article 
can  be  contemplated  with  equanimity  until  every- 
body who  is  qualified  to  form  an  opinion  has 
guessed  how  much  it  cost.  The  first  parcel  that 
came  out  was  the  cause  of  the  expedition's  late 
return,  having  been  accidentally  laid  down  on  a 
counter,  and  only  remembered  when  Mrs.  M'Gurk 
and  her  coinpanion  were  a  long  mile  and  a  half  on 

4 


34  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

their  homeward  way.  But  the  widow  felt  thiit  she 
would  have  tramped  back  wearily  twice  as  far 
rather  then  have  left  it  behind,  when  Biddy,  old 
Mick  Ryan's  daughter,  whispered  to  her  :  "  Sure,  he 
was  lookin'  out  for  somethin',  in  a  manner,  the 
whoule  day ;  I  knew  by  the  face  of  him  wheniver 
there  would  be  a  fut  goin'  past  the  door,  though 
what  got  such  an  idee  into  his  head  bangs  me. 
But  I'll  give  you  me  word,  this  livin'  minyit  the 
crathur  has  a  couple  o'  matches  slipped  up  tb.e 
sleeve  of  his  ould  coat  that  he  axed  the  loan  of 
from  Larry  Sheridan  this  mornin' ;   belike  he " 

"  Arrah  now,  look  at  the  size  o'  the  lump  that 
is,"  interposed  his  daughter-in  law ;  "I'm  rael 
ashamed,  bedad.  He'd  no  call  to  be  talkin'  of 
such  things.  Faith,  ma'am,  'twill  ha'  stood  you 
in " 

"  Whisht  then,  whisht,  you  stookawn,"  protested 
Mrs.  M'Gurk,  "and  don't  go  for  to  be  puttin'  him 
out  of  consait  wid  his  little  bit  of  enjoyment,  size 
or  no  size." 

Meanwhile  old  Mick  sat  with  the  expression  of 
one  rapt  away  in  a  soothing  reverie,  and  slowly 
fingered  his  dark  twist  of  tobacc)',  lingering  gloat- 
ingly over  the  moist  newly-cut  end.  When  Biddy 
offered  to  fetch  him  down  his  little  black  pipe,  he 
said,  "  No  begob  ;  I'll  just  be  keepin'  the  fee'  of 
it  in  me  hand  for  this  night."     Which  he  did. 


A   IVINDfALL.  35 

There   were   other   deh"ghts    in    the    basket.     A 
bundle    of    portly     brown-and-white     sugarsticks 
made  some  full-grown    people   secretly  wish  that 
they  were  children  too,  and  left  the  children  them- 
selves, for  the  time  being,  without  an  unsatisfied 
wish  in  the  peppermint-scented  world.     It  was  on 
this   occasion  that  a  reconciliation    between  Mrs. 
M'Gurk  and  Judy  Ryan,  who,  it  may  be  remem- 
bered,  had    offensively   obtruded    an    offering   of 
potatoes,  was  cemented— durably,  to  draw  omens 
from    intense    adhesiveness — by   the   number   and 
length  of  the  sticks  bestowed   upon   the  youthful 
Pat  Ryans.     Then  there   was  a  large  blue  bottle 
with  a  red-and-yellow    label,    which   contained  a 
"  linyeement "   warranted  to   cure   the  very  worst 
of  rheumatics.     This  was  to  be   divided   between 
Mrs.  Quigley  and  Peter  Sheridan,  sufferers  of  many 
twinges,  who    would    now  command,  at  any  rate, 
the  not   despised    consolation    diffused    by  strong 
odours  of  turpentine   and  camphorated  oil.     The 
only  pity  was  that  "  such  powerful  smellin'  stuff 
should  be  marked   Poison   so  very  plainly  as   tc 
scare  any  one  from  trying  it  "  in'ards."    And  in  one 
parcel  was  a  coarse  warm  woollen  skirt  for  Stace}% 
instead  of  the  thin  rag  in  which  she  had  shivered 
along  many  a  mile  that  clay ;  while  another  swelled 
with   the    knitting-yarn    that    Peg   Sheridan,   who 
was  "  lame-futted,  anil  lost  wiclout  a  bit   of  work 


36  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

in  her  hand,"  had  been  fretting  for  time  out  of 
mind.  But  the  purchases  whence  Mrs.  M'Gurk 
herself  derived  the  keenest  pleasure  were  the  two 
dark-purple  papered  packets  which  she  left  at  the 
Kilfoyles'  cabin,  on  her  way  up  to  her  own  ;  no 
meagre  funnel-shaped  wisps,  screwed  up  to  receive 
skimpy  ounces  and  quarters,  but  capacious  bags, 
that  would  stand  squarely  on  end  when  filled  and 
corded,  and  that  you  would  not  err  in  describing 
as  one  pound  of  two-and-tuppenny  tea,  and  four  of 
tuppenny  ha'penny  soft  sugar. 

This  was,  of  course,  magnificent ;  still  one  might 
have  thought  that  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle's  recollections 
of  earlier  days,  remote  though  they  were,  would 
have  prevented  her  from  being  so  taken  aback 
as  to  sit  with  the  packages  in  her  lap  remarking 
nothing  more  appropriate  than,  "  Musha  then — 
well  to  goodness — sure  woman  dear — och  now 
begorrah — why,  what  at  all  " — treble-noted  inco- 
herencies,  which  were  borne  down  by  the  gruffer 
tones  of  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  who  at  the  same  time  was 
saj'ing,  over-earnestly  for  a  mere  conventional 
disclaimer:  "Ah  now,  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  honey,  don't 
let  there  be  a  word  out  of  your  head.  Sure  it  was 
just  to  gratify  mcsclf  I  done  it,  for  I'm  rael 
annoyed — divil  a  lie  I'm  tellin'  you — it's  down- 
right annoyed  I  do  be  Lo  see  the  little  tay-pot 
sittin'    cocked    up    there    on   the    shelf,   and    niver 


A   117 M)  FALL.  V 

a  dhrop  to  go  in  it  for  you  this  great  while 
back." 

'•  Ay,  that's  so,"  said  Mrs  Brian, "nary  a  grain  o* 
tay  she's  had  sin'  poor  Thady  went,  that  would  be 
bringin'  her  an  odd  quarter-poun'  when  he  was 
after  gettin'  a  job  of  work  anywheres.  But  these 
time^,  what  wid  this  thing  and  the  other — How- 
ane'er  it's  a  grand  tays  she'll  be  takin'  now  entirely," 
continued  Airs.  Brian,  who  was  inwardly  calling 
herself  a  big  stupid  gomach  for  alluding  to  Tha-.ly, 
"and  the  goat's  milkin'  finely  yet  awhile,  so  as 
there'll  be  a  sup  o'  milk  for  her.  You'll  be  havin' 
great  tay  drinkins  now,  mother,  won't  you,  wid 
what  all  Mrs.  M'Gurk's  after  bringin'  you?" 

But:  "The  paice  of  heaven  be  his  sowl's  rest,"  Mrs. 
Kilfoyle  said,  as  if  to  herself,  with  an  irrelevancy 
which  showed  that  her  daughter-in-law  had  failed 
to  turn  back  the  current  of  her  thoughts. 

"  I'm  sure  it  was  oncommon  friendly  of  you, 
ma'am,"  Mrs.  Brian  said  to  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  with  a 
semi- reproachful  emphasis,  which  was  addressed  to 
some  one  else. 

"'Deed,  and  that  it  was,"  the  little  old  woman 
responded,  remembering  her  mannerr.,  which  she 
very  seldom  forgot,  and  hastening  back  from— who 
knows  where.?  "There's  nothin'  I  fancy  like  me 
cup  o'  tay;  and  you  to  be  thinkin'  of  that.  W'h}', 
I'll  get  Norah  here  to  wet  us  a  drt)p  this  mor\;aI 
instiant." 


38  IfHSIJ  IDYLLS. 

"But  Mrs.  M'Gurk— why  musha  Mrs.  M'Giirk," 
an  exciting  possibility  had  just  occurred  to  one  of 
the  neighbours  who  were  seeing  her  home—"  what's 
gone  wid  your  bag  of  male  all  this  while  ?  Where 
have  you  it  at  all  ?  Glory  be  to  goodness,  woman 
alive,  it's  not  after  lavin'  it  behind  you  anywheres 
you  are  ?  " 

"  Set  it  down  out  of  her  hand  belike — or  Stacey 
it  was  maybe — and  it's  twinty-si\cn  chances  if  ivcr 
she  sees  sight  or  light  of  it  agin." 

"  Well,  well,  well,  begorrah,  to  think  of  that  hap- 
penin'  the  crathur." 

"  Male  is  it  ?  "  said  the  widow,  with  calm.  "  Sure 
was  it  breakin'  me  own  back  or  the  girl's  I'd  be 
carryin'  a  load  o'  male  that  far .?  I  could  git  one  of 
the  lads  to  bring  me  up  a  stone  handy  the  next 
time  he's  down  beyant — That's  to  say,  if  I'd  make 
me  mind  up  to  be  spendin'  money  on  it  at  all,' 
Mrs.  M'Gurk  hastened  to  add,  being  v/ell  aware 
that  thruppince  farthin'  was  at  present  the  amount 
of  her  capital  ;  "  I've  no  great  opinion  of  male 
meself  It's  a  brash.  A  good  hot  pitaty's  a  dale 
tastier  any  day." 

When  Mrs.  M'Gurk  finally  completed  her  unpack- 
ing in  the  seclusion  of  her  own  cabin,  it  appeared 
that  -she  had  brought  nothing  home  with  her  except 
a  penn'orth  of  salt.  The  small  brown-paper  bag 
die'  not  prcscnl  un  imposing  appearance,  set  solitary 


A    WINDFALL  39 

on  the  bare  deal  tabic,  and  she  stood  looking  at  it 
with  a  somewhat  regretful  expressimi  for  a  few 
moments.  She  was  saying  to  herself:  "If  they'd 
axed  an  anyways  raisonable  price  for  them  red 
woolly  wads  " — she  meant  knitted  comforters — 
"hangin'  up  at  Corr's,  I  might  ha'  got  one  for  Mrs. 
Sheridan's  Joe.  It's  starved  wid  the  could  the  imp 
of  a  crathur  docs  be,  and  she's  hard  set  to  keep  a 
stitch  to  its  back.  But  sivenpence-ha'penny's  be- 
yond me  altogether." 

However,  perfect  satisfaction  is  unattainable,  and 
few  women  have  felt  more  contented,  on  the  whole, 
with  the  result  of  a  day's  shopping  than  did  Mrs. 
M'Gurk  as  she  tumbled  into  the  rushes  and  rags  of 
her  curiously  constructed  lair,  where  she  began  to 
dream  of  tobacco,  and  yarn,  and  alluring  bakers' 
windows  in  the  middle  of  her  first  strangely  worded 
Hail  Mary. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ONE     TOO     MANY. 

It  may  have  been  partly  the  widow  M'Gurk's 
American  windfall  that  turned  people's  thoughts 
thitherward,  by  making  them  realise  vividly  the 
advantages  of  receiving  remittances  from  abroad  ; 
at  any  rate  it  is  certain  that  throughout  the  follow- 
ing winter  the  idea  of  emigration  to  "  the  States  " 
was  unwontedly  in  the  air  at  Lisconnel.  Not  that 
it  throve  or  spread  there  to  any  considerable  extent, 
this  cabin-cluster  being  one  of  those  forlorn,  make- 
shift, casual-looking  little  settlements  wherein  the 
inhabitant  seems  always  to  strike  a  terribly  deep 
and  tenacious  root.  Primarily,  it  may  be,  from  a 
self-preserving  instinct,  for  his  shaggy  roof  and 
stony  scrap  of  potato- plot  form  his  stronghold,  his 
first  and  last  outpost  against  the  cver-bclcaguering 
wilderness  and  solitary  places,  and  he  clings  to 
them  with  a  desperation  hardly  conceivable  by 
people  who  interpose  more  elaborate  barriers 
between  their  lives  and  tlic  sheer  brute  forces   of 


ONE  'WO  MANY.  41 

nature.  Outside  that  screed  of  rough  shcltei  he 
knows  what  ills  forthwith  await  him,  what  step- 
motherliness  of  barren  earth,  what  pitilessness  of 
capricious  skies,  but  there  is  nothing  in  his  experi- 
ence to  apprise  him  of  any  counterbalancing  good. 
All  his  auguries  drawn  from  thence  are  of  privation  : 
solitude,  silence — or  uncomforting  strange  faces  and 
voices — homelessness,  hunger — these  things  pro- 
mise to  be  his  portion  when  once  he  passes  beyond 
the  reach  of  his  fragrant  blue  turf  smoke  and  his 
big  black  pot.  And  from  such-like  evils  "  th'  ould 
place  at  home  "  has  hitherto  shielded  him  more  or 
less  effectually  ;  but  furthermore  it  provides  him 
with  a  daily  ration  of  business  and  desire,  a  clue 
to  guide  his  wanderings  through  the  mazes  of  a 
destiny  that  at  best  seems  to  him  sufficiently  per- 
plexing and  inscrutable.  For  he  has,  as  a  rule,  too 
much  imagination,  and  too  little  of  more  material 
things,  to  keep  his  mind  clear  of  fateful  riddles. 
Therefore  he  puts  habit  and  familiarity  in  the  stead 
of  understanding,  and  thinks  he  sees  "  some  sinse 
and  raison  "  in  his  own  townland  and  neighbours, 
because  he  has  all  his  life  been  used  to  the  look  of 
them,  and  to  their  ways.  But  the  very  aspect  of  a 
strange  place  makes  him  feel  as  lost  and  helpless 
as  a  leaf  blown  from  its  bough  ;  and  herein  his 
plight  has  some  resemblance — thus  do  extremes 
meet — to  that  of  the  great   German    philosopher, 


42  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

whose  working  powers  were  gravely  imperilled  by 
the  threatened  felling  of  a  tree,  which  had  stood  in 
sight  of  his  study  window. 

His  "  bit  o'  land,"  then,  is  dear  to  the  dweller  in 
TJsconnel,  not  mainly  as  a  bit  of  land,  but  rather 
as  the  fragment  of  solid  tangible  fact:,  contact  with 
which  keeps  his  whole  existence  from  becoming 
the  sport  of  meaningless  mysteries,  in  somewhat 
the  same  fashion  that  we  have  seen  one  of  his 
superfluous  boulders  keep  the  wind  from  whirling 
his  thatch  dispersedly  about  the  bog.  Nor  is  this 
a  stone  picked  up  and  flung  on  at  random.  It  is 
bound  down  securely  with  strong  ties  of  memories 
and  associations,  twined  through  long  years,  and  to 
be  broken  by  no  storm-gusts  of  circumstance.  A 
meagre  field -fleck  and  a  ramshackle  shanty  on  the 
hill's  wan  gray  slope,  or  the  lip  of  the  black-oozing 
morass,  is  scarcely  an  ideal  earthly  paradise  ;  yet  it 
may  be  at  least  the  site  of  the  only  one  that  can 
appear  possible  for  him.  There  are  invisible 
fixtures  in  his  cavernous-intcriored  cabin,  which  a 
law,  not  included  probably  in  the  code  enforced 
by  landlords  and  sub-sheriffs,  forbids  him  to 
remove.  This  inconvenient  non-transferability  of 
affections  would  prove  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
compensation  for  disturbance,  or  any  similar 
grievance  which  a  relenting  fate  might  seek  to 
redress.     Should  a  sequence  of  calamity  such    as 

1^ 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  43 

Job's  overtal^e  him,  sweeping  away  his  flocks  and 
herds  and  children,  no  eventual  doubling  of  his  live 
stock  could  console  him,  as  it  did  the  more  philo- 
sophic sheikh.  His  last  days  would  still  be  made 
darker  than  his  first  by  many  a  regret  for  "the  ould 
white  heifer,"  or  "the  little  red  cow,"  or  "the  bit  of 
a  skewbald  pony,  the  crathur."  And  as  for  the  ten 
new  sons  and  daughters  —  IMolly  and  Biddy  and 
Katty — they  would  be  a  failure  indeed. 

Persons  with  this  turh  of  mind  are  obviously  not 
likely  to  favour  any  emigration  project,  and,  as  I 
have  said,  the  idea  never  became  popular  in  Lis- 
connel,  where,  to  be  sure,  its  merits  were  seldom 
considered  at  all  dispassionately.  To  the  older 
people  emigration  simply  seemed  much  the  same 
thing  as  death,  with  the  aggravating  circumstance 
that  it  chiefly  menaced  the  childcr  and  the  boys  ; 
they  discussed  it  in  the  same  tone  that  they  would 
have  adopted  in  talking  about  the  outbreak  of  some 
dangerous  epidemic.  Even  the  young  men  and 
lads,  who  did  now  and  then  glance  at  the  possibility 
— to  summarily  dismiss  it — kept  their  meditations, 
for  the  most  part,  to  themselves.  It  was  too  tragical 
a  subject  to  be  utilised  upon  trivial  occasions  of 
discontent  or  ruffled  vanity,  as  their  brethren  some- 
times recall  disaffected  mothers  and  sisters  to  their 
allegiance,  by  dark  hints  dropped  about  the  feasi- 
bility of  enlisting. 


44  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

In  only  one  household  at  Lisconnel  was  the  idea 
entertained  at  this  time  with  any  degree  of  appro- 
bation, and  even  there  from  what  may  be  called  a 
vicarious  point  of  view.  I  refer  to  the  Sheridans, 
who  live  in  the  cabin  nearest  the  Kilfoyles  and 
Mick  Ryans.  They  were  in  those  days  a  large 
straggling  family,  ranging  from  Andy,  who  was 
one-and-twenty,  and  stood  six-foot-three  in  his 
stockings — when  he  wore  any — to  a  half-brother, 
who  had  but  lately  begun  to  crawl  away  when  set 
down  on  the  ground,  which  newly-acquired  habit 
disarranged  the  calculations  of  any  person  respon- 
sible for  the  whereabouts  of  his  tattered  red  flannel 
frock.  For  Peter  Sheridan  had  married  twice,  and 
his  first  wife's  family  of  four  were  now  supple- 
mented by  a  flock  of  seven  or  eight.  Second 
marriages  are  not  well  thought  of  in  Lisconnel 
and  Peter,  a  gloomy-tempered  man,  who  had  few 
social  gifts,  did  not  raise  himself  in  the  public 
esteem  by  taking  up  with  Mattie  Duggan.  The 
neighbours  were  of  the  opinion  that  "  poor  Molly 
Mahony's  childcr  would  be  apt  to  find  the 
differ";  but  Mattie  did  not  turn  out  a  typical 
stepmother.  In  fact  she  was  rather  good  to  her 
youngest  stepdaughter.  Peg,  who  was  lame,  and 
she  was  decidedly  proud  of  the  v, ell- grown  Andy, 
while  she  never  displayed  an  unfriendly  spirit 
towards  the  other  two,  Sally  and   I. any.      If  she 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  45 

helped  in  getting  up  the  domestic  agitation  of 
which  I  am  going  to  speak,  she  took  no  more 
active  part  in  it  than  did  Larry's  own  kith  and  kin. 
And  it  may  be  said  for  all  of  them  that  circum- 
stances w  ere  urgent  and  coercive. 

It  was  a  hard  winter  for  everybody,  but  espe- 
cially for  the  Sheridans,  who  have  the  name  of 
being  an  unlucky  family.  This  time  their  potatoes 
were  much  worse  than  most  other  people's ;  it  was 
quite  impossible  to  imagine  that  their  stock  could 
hold  out  till  July,  and  as  they  had  also  lost  a  fat 
pig,  and  had  a  clutch  of  eggs  addled  in  an  August 
thunderstorm,  it  seemed  hard  to  say  how  they 
should  come  by  yellow  meal  wherewith  to  fill  up 
the  hiatus.  Himself,  that  is  Peter,  the  head  of  the 
household,  had  during  the  last  two  or  three  years 
been  growing  more  and  more  crippled  with  rheu- 
matism, and  was  now  quite  past  his  work,  which 
diminished  the  amount  of  harvest  earnings,  and 
increased  an  embarrassing  deficit  on  rent-days.  So 
that  altogether  the  state  of  affairs  was  one  that 
makes  "  long  "  families  feel  keenly  how  num.erous 
the)  are  at  meal-times,  and  from  this  sense  there 
is  a  natural  transition  to  reflections  upon  the 
desirability  of  larger  supplies  or  a  smaller  party. 
The  evident  impracticability  of  the  former  alterna- 
tive was  what  at  the  outset  led  the  Sheridans  to 
take    the    latter    into   consideration,  very  vaguely, 


46  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

indeed,  and  with  no  definite  purpose.  But  as  they 
dwelt  upon  it,  the  notion  gradually  developed  an 
outline. 

Stray  reports  came  up  from  the  Town  about  a 
fortnightly  steamer  which  had  lately  begun  to  ply 
between    Kenport  and  Queenstown,  the  starting- 
point  of  that  awful  voyage  over  "  oceans  of  say." 
Now,  Kenport  lies  within   a  few  days'  tramp,  not 
so  hopelessly  remote  but  that  it  was  just  possible 
to  imagine  a  man's  making  his  way  thither,  and 
once  arrived  there,  persons,  so  rumour  ran,  were  to 
be  found  who  would  hold  themselves  responsible 
for   his   disembarkation   somewhere  on    the  other 
side,   an    arrangement   which    seemed    to   render 
further    imaginings   unnecessary.      And  when  tlie 
Sheridans  mentally  pictured  some  one  they  knew 
trudging  off  along  the  familiar  road,  till   it  grew 
strange,  and  at  last  going  on  board  the  steamboat, 
stranger  still,  the  figure  they  saw  was   Lairy,  the 
second  boy.     Everything  pointed  him  out  as  the 
appropriate  emigrant.     His  younger  brothers  were 
not  old  enough,  and  Andy  was  out  of  the  question, 
growing  yearly  more  important  in  his  family  circle 
as    his  father's  infirmities  increased.     "  Sure,  we'd 
be   lost    intirely   without    Andy."     Larry,  on   the 
contrary,  appeared  in  no  wise  indispensable.     He 
was  twenty  years  old,  almost  as  tall  as  his  brother, 
and  still  growing,  but  lank  and  weedy,  never  to  be 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  47 

nearly  so  fine  a  figure  of  a  man.  Neither  had  he 
Andy's  practical  abilities  and  energy,  being  in  truth 
scatter-brained  and  innately  lazy.  He  loved  to  sit 
dangling  his  long  legs  on  the  top  of  a  dyke,  or  to 
lie  basking  on  a  sun-warmed  bank  ;  and,  especial'./ 
in  winter  time,  when  the  uncomfortable  outer  world 
became  a  fact  to  ignore  as  much  as  possible,  he 
was  very  fond  of  getting  into  a  few  tattered  sheets 
of  an  old  song-book  and  a  loose-leaved  volume  cf 
IvaiiJwe,  picked  up  goodness  knows  where,  ai.d 
presented  to  him  by  the  widow  M'Gurk,  who  had 
also  taught  him  his  letters.  It  is  true  that  his  long 
legs  would  run  miles  ungrudgingly  on  an  errai.d 
if  anybody  was  took  bad,  or  in  trouble,  and  that 
his  most  foolish  actions  were  often  done  with  the 
kindest  intentions.  It  was  true,  too,  that  ever  and 
anon  upon  some  emergency  he  would  make  some 
shrewd  suggestion,  which  caused  his  neighbours  to 
remark  that  Larry  Sheridan  was  no  fool  when  he 
chose  to  leave  wool-gathering  and  give  his  mind 
to  what  he  was  about.  Whereupon  some  person 
present  would  probably  add  that  he  was  a  dacint 
poor  lad  any  way,  and  a  rael  gob  o'  good -nature. 
But  all  this  did  not  alter  the  stubborn  fact  that  his 
services  were  not,  and  could  not  be,  worth  his  keep, 
since  at  the  busiest  times  the  Shcridans'  tiny  hold- 
ing scarcely  gave  full  employment  to  Andy  and 
Tim,  not  to  mention    Sally  and  the  smaller  fry; 


48  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

while  al  slack  seasons  Hercules  himself  could 
merely  have  kicked  his  heels  there  rather  more 
vigorously  than  ordinary  mortals. 

In  short,  when  once  his  relations  had  familiarised 
themselves  with  the  idea,  the  main  obstacle  to 
Larry's  departure  from  Lisconnel  lay  in  his  own 
sentiments  on  the  subject.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
overstate  their  strength.  His  shrinking  from  new 
paths  and  devotion  to  old  ones  exaggerated,  well- 
nigh  caricatured,  those  propensities  as  commonly 
exhibited  by  his  neighbours.  I  do  not  believe  that 
with  his  own  good  will  he  would  ever  have  gone  out 
of  sight  of  the  little  knockawn  with  its  lowly  crest, 
of  grey-gleaming  crag.  Business  now  and  then 
called  him  down  to  Duffclane,  or  even  as  far  as  the 
Town  ;  but  on  these  occasions  reluctant  went  his 
departing  steps,  and  his  rising  spirits  always  jumped 
up  several  degrees  in  one  bound  at  the  moment 
when  his  thatch  with  its  dark-rimmed  smoke-hole 
came  into  view  again  from  the  brow  of  the  hill. 
To  live  on  where  and  as  he  had  lived  ever  since  his 
memories  began,  was  a  prospect  in  which,  had  it 
been  assured  to  him,  he  would  have  more  than 
acquiesced.  Changes  of  every  kind  were  hateful  to 
him  ;  those  wrought  slowly  by  mere  lapse  of  time, 
even  now,  at  twenty  years  old,  filled  him  with 
despondency  whenever  he  thought  of  them  ;  but 
lie  had  a  faculty  for  holding    aloof    from    painful 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  49 

reflections,   unless   they   were   thrust  unavoidably 
upon  his  attention. 

Of  course,  with  the  rest  of  Lisconnel,  he  had  ln"s 
share  of  bad  seasons,  when  sheer  want,  like  a  fresliet 
in  an  ever-brimming  stream,  comes  down  upon  the 
household  by  its  brink,  and  swamps  everybody 
impartially.  From  his  normal  circumstances,  how- 
ever, that  is  when  he  had  not  overmuch  to  do,  and 
pretty  nearly  enough  to  eat,  he  drew  whole  daysful 
of  content,  lounging  away  his  leisure  amid  a  happy 
mingling  of  accustomed  sights  and  sounds  with 
fantastic  dreams  partly  inspired  by  the  confused 
glimpses  of  mediaeval  romance,  which  he  spelled 
out  for  himself  These  glimpses  were  made  all  the 
more  confused  by  the  necessity  he  was  under  of 
sorting  as  best  he  could  the  pages  of  his  dishevelled 
volume,  which,  carefully  though  he  stowed  them 
away,  got  mixed  up,  as  a  rule,  between  each  read- 
ing, and  probably  were  never  replaced  just  in  the 
order  Sir  Walter  had  intended.  Once  Larry 
had  given  little  Pat  his  brother  "  a  clout  on  the 
head  "  for  mischievously  jumbling  them  all  together 
again,  and  this  act  of  violence  was  one  of  his  lifes 
two  most  rem.orscful  memories.  The  other  was 
the  recollection  of  how,  at  about  five  years  old,  he 
had  one  day  furtively  fmished  a  potato,  which  his 
mother,  who  died  soon  afterwards,  had  been  eating 
for  her  dinner,  when  a  neighbour  called  her  to  the 

5 


50  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

door  with  some  message,  and  how  he  had  seen  her 
look  disappointed  on  her  return  as  she  missed  the 
remnant  of  her  stinted  meal.  Both  these  incidents 
were  apt  to  haunt  him  during  his  rare  absences 
from  home,  and  by  some  curious  train  of  thought 
llicy  made  him  feel  somehow  that  it  would  be  a 
judgment  on  him  if  "anythin'  went  agin  the 
others "  while  he  was  away.  Whence  we  may 
infer  that  if  Larry  Sheridan's  count  of  crimes  were 
a  heavy  one,  his  conscience  must  have  been  gravely 
deficient  in  the  faculty  of  selection. 

It  was  a  long  time  ere  Larry  began  to  have  the 
faintest  inkling  of  the  plans  which  his  family  were 
forming  on  his  behalf.  His  habit  of  mind  was 
somewhat  inobservant,  and  the  enormity  of  the 
idea,  as  it  appeared  to  him,  made  him  the  slower  to 
take  it  up.  But  when  it  did  dawn  upon  him,  he 
was  nearly  as  much  shocked  as  he  would  have 
been  had  he  detected  the  rest  in  a  conspiracy  for 
drowning  him  in  the  bog-hole  at  the  back  of  their 
house.  Thenceforward  he  became  feverishly  alive 
to  every  word  or  look  that  could  conceivably  bear 
on  the  matter.  For  it  must  not  be  supposed  that 
Larry's  people  told  him  explicitly  how  expedient 
they  considered  his  departure  to  the  States.  Such 
plainness  of  speech  is  not  our  custom  in  Lisconnel, 
where  we  are  on  the  one  hand  innately  averse 
fVora  stating  in  cold  blood  facLs  likely  to  displease 


OXE  TOO  MANY.  51 

cuf  hearers,  and,  on  the  other,  are  quickwitted 
enough  to  take  hints  with  a  readiness  which  allows 
things  of  the  kind  to  be  conveyed  under  a  mufile 
of  innuendo,  thus  avoiding  some  disagreeable  fric- 
tion at  the  cost  of  a  little  candour,  and  an  occa- 
sional risk  of  misapi)rehension.  To  my  mind  the 
bargain  is,  on  the  whole,  not  a  bad  one  for  us,  who 
want  all  the  amenities  of  life  that  come  by  any 
means  within  our  reach.  If  Larry  had  charged 
anybody  point-blank  with  wishing  him  to  emigrate, 
he  would  have  elicited  a  vehement  disclaimer, 
"  Och  now,  the  saints  in  glory  be  among  us  —  the 
goodness  grant  me  patience  wid  him — is  it  ravin' 
the  lad  is?  Sure  what  talk  has  e'er  a  one  of  any 
such  a  thing  ?  We  were  just  passin'  the  remark 
that  out  there  appears  to  be  a  fine  place,  where  a 
young  chap  '11  git  his  livin'  aisy  and  to  spare, 
instead  of  scrapin'  an  ould  pot  where  there's  maybe 
plenty  widout  him  to  be  scrapin'  it.  Howane'er  it's 
long  sorry  I'd  be  to  bid  anybody  go  make  his 
fortin  against  his  will,"  But  his  mind,  fairly  sensi- 
tised, received  to  his  sorrow,  the  import  of  insinua- 
tions far  more  delicately  wrapped  up  than  this 
h)  pothetical  one.  Sometimes  he  caused  himself 
needless  pangs  by  imagining  hints  where  none 
were  meant  ;  he  never  escaped  any  through  lack 
of  perception. 

Of  course  he  did  not  "let  on."     To  ;ave  overtly 


52  JRJ^H  IDYLLS. 

recognised  the  existence  of  the  project  would  have 
seemed  to  bring  it  a  stage  nearer  execution.  But 
though  he  said  nothing,  he  took  action  upon  it. 
For  he  reasoned  with  himself  that  he  must  have 
baen  a  great  little-good-for,  and  a  blamed  ould 
handless  bosthoon,  or  else  the  rest  of  them  would 
never  have  took  up  with  a  notion  of  getting  shut 
of  him.  And  the  conclusion  which  he  deduced 
was  to  the  effect  that  if  he  showed  himself  in  a 
more  favourable  light,  they  might  be  led  to  dismiss 
the  idea.  He  remembered  now  regretfully  how 
often  he  had  lain  perdu  behind  his  favourite  big ' 
boulder,  while  his  step- mother  was  audible  in  the 
distance  screeching  for  some  one  to  fetch  her  a 
"  bucket  o'  wather,"  and  he  resolved  to  turn  over  a 
new  leaf.  Indeed  he  seemed,  so  to  speak,  to  turn 
over  several  at  once,  for  he  fell  to  bringing  in  so 
many  bucketfuls  that  his  sister  Sally  asked  him 
with  sarcasm  whether  he  thought  they  were  about 
making  themselves  a  young  lough  in  the  middle  of 
the  flure.  It  was  not  easy  to  find  channels  for  all 
his  new  industrial  zeal.  Once  he  nearly  broke  his 
back  by  hauling  a  heavy,  snaggy  black  mass,  half 
root,  half  tree-trunk,  up  to  their  door  from  a  dis- 
tant turf- cutting,  because  he  had  heard  Mrs. 
Sheridan  say  that  it  would  make  a  grand  stool 
like,  for  beside  the  hearth  corner.  But  having  left 
it  thus  overnight,  with  the  intention  of  jusfrowlin' 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  53 

it  in  handy  "  the  first  thing  next  morning,  behold 
the  earlier  Andy  accomplished  this  while  Larry 
still  slept,  and  entered  lightly  into  all  the  kudos  of 
the  toilsome  achievement. 

The  children  naturally  quarrelled  all  day  for  the 
glory  of  occupying  the  new  seat,  and  in  the  cour:>e 
of  their  contention  Paddy  tumbled  little  Rosanne 
head-foremost  into  the  hearth,  and  was  within  "an 
ame's  ace  of  scttin'  the  innicent  child  in  a  blaze  of 
fire."  Whereupon  their  mother  remarked  that  she 
"  wished  to  goodness  that  big  gomeral  Larry  would 
let  alone  litterin'  up  the  place  wid  his  ould  sticks, 
and  encouragin'  the  childer  to  destroy  themselves. 
Sure  if  he  could  find  nothin'  better  to  be  after  at 
home,  there  were  places  where  there  was  plenty 
besides  mischief  to  be  doin"."  To  which  Sally 
rejoined,  "  Ay,  bejabers,  are  there,"  with  a  flash  of 
the  recurrent  thought  that,  if  young  Dan  O'Beirne 
knew  she  had  a  biother  doin'  well  in  the  States, 
and  sendin'  home  poun's  and  poun's,  he  might  not 
tnink  such  a  wonderful  heap  of  Stacey  Doyne,  a 
girl  whose  people  were  as  poor  as  they  could  stick 
together.  So  inapparent  may  be  the  links  between 
«,ause  and  effect. 

Many  another  little  scheme  of  Larry's  proved 
equally  unsuccessful,  yet  he  did  not  relax  his 
efforts.  Some  of  his  attempts  to  propitiate  seem 
rather    melancholy.      lie   was    more  careful  tlian 


54  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

ever  to  avoid  making  his  presence  felt  obc'rusively 
around  the  steaming  pot,  sometimes  keeping  away 
altogether,    and    sometimes  saying  imaginatively : 
"  Bedad,  Tim,  you  must  halve  this  wi'   me,  an)'- 
ways  ;  she's  after  givin'  me  enough  to  feed  a  rigi- 
ment  of  horse  and  fut."     He  even  exerted  himself 
to     secure    the    suffrages    of    the    small    children, 
who    were    already     well    affected    towards    him, 
by  unusual  alacrity  in  acceding  to  their  requests 
for    performances   of  a   farcical  song   and  dance, 
known    in    the    family  as  "  Larry's  antics."       His 
grotesque  capers  often  were  cut  to  a  tragic  accom- 
paniment   of  very    unmirthful    meditations — such 
CEdipean   choruses  will  attend  our  comic  operas  ; 
however,  this  took  nothing  from  the  pleasure  of 
his  unsuspecting  audience.     It  appeared  a  graver 
drawback  that  the  entertainment  was  liable  to  be 
prohibited  summarily  by  a  growl  from   Peter,  who 
through    those  slow-gaited   winter  days  formed  a 
centre  of  domestic  gloom  where  he  sat  beside  the 
fire,   fearing   that  he   would  never  be  good  for  a 
stroke  of  work  again,  and  ever  and  anon  diversify- 
ing  his   discomfortable   private   cogitations   by  a 
captious  excursion  into  the  affairs  going  forward 
around    him.      On  evenings   when  his   mood  was 
more  disconsolate  than  usual,  the   first  flourish  of 
Larry's  arms  and  legs  would  produce  a  peremptory 
injunction   to  "  quit   carryin'  on  like  a  deminted 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  55 

scare-crow  in  a  storm  o'  win'  ; "  and  Larry  would 
have  to  desist  from  that  artful  method  of  ingratia- 
tion. 

About  this  time,  if  any  explorers  of  Lisconnel 
had  come  across  a  long,  ragged  youth  seated  on  a 
grey-lichencd  boulder,  ruffling  up  a  halo  of  black 
hair  with  both  hands,  and  staring  before  him  over 
the  bog  with  a  whole  horizonful  of  melancholy  in 
his  wide,  dark  eyes  and  narrow,  peaked  face,  they 
would  probably  have  seen  Larry  Sheridan  engaged 
in  earnestly  pondering  and  planning  how  he  could 
induce  his  family  to  let  him  live  out  his  bit  of  life 
among  them,  unmolested  by  nightmare  visions  of 
being  driven  off  into  the  great,  strange,  miserable 
world — away  from  Lisconnel. 

In  all  these  aims  and  devices,  Larry  cnjo}-cd  the 
encouragement  and  comfort  of  one  sympathising 
coadjutrix — his  sister  Peg.  A  close  friendship  had 
existed  between  them  from  her  earliest  days,  when 
Larry  used  to  carry  her  about  to  a  surprising 
extent,  considering  that  he  was  the  elder  by  only 
three  years.  And  as  she  grew  older  without  ever 
learning  to  walk  rightly,  it  was  Lany  who  did 
most  to  make  her  amends  for  this  privation.  He 
spent  hours  in  amusing  her  ;  and  at  one  time  even 
wished  to  tench  her  to  read,  that  she  might  be  able 
to  entertain  herself  with  his  priceless  librar\'.  l)Ut 
Peg,  who  was  practical -minded,  showed  no  enthu- 


56  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

siasm  for  literature.  In  fact,  when  he  tried  to 
begin  her  second  lesson,  she  immediately  kicked 
him,  saj'ing,  with  a  howl,  "  Git  along  wid  your 
ugly  ould  Ah,  Bay,  Say,"  and  tore  one  of  his  pre- 
cious pages  nearly  in  half,  thereby  abruptly  fniish- 
ing  her  education. 

However,  despite  their  dissimilarity  of  taste  and 
her  occasional  shortness  of  temper,  their  friendship 
continued  to  thrive,  and  Peg  now  manifested  it  by 
vigorously  siding  with  Larry  in  the  queer  unde- 
clared struggle  which  was  going  on  beneath  their 
roof.  It  is  true  that  Peg  was  no  very  powerful" 
auxiliary ;  still  she  had  zeal,  and  some  intelligence, 
which  enabled  her  to  act  not  inefficiently  as  trum- 
peter of  all  Larry's  worthy  deeds,  and  forager  for 
facts  wherewith  to  rebut  those  advanced  in  sup- 
port of  their  views  by  the  opposite  party.  Thus, 
if  Larry  cleared  a  path  through  the  snow-drift,  or 
brought  home  the  hen  that  had  foosthered  off  with 
herself  down  the  bog,  or  mended  the  worst  hole  in 
the  thatch,  beneath  which  the  drip  had  begun  to 
form  a  deep  pool,  Peg  made  it  her  business  to  see 
that  all  influential  members  of  the  household  were 
duly  apprised  of  these  services.  But  she  drew  a 
discreet  veil  over  the  less  quotable  incidents  of  his 
first  attempt  at  roof-patching  en  a  plan  of  his  own, 
namely  the  insertion  into  the  aperture  of  an  old 
meal-bag  stuffed  with  stones,  and  her  hairbreadth 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  57 

escape  of  being  brained  by  a  shower  of  them, 
which  the  speedy  collapse  of  the  rotten  sacking  let 
tumble  into  the  room.  Or,  again,  her  step-mother 
might  observe  regretfully,  as  she  threw  the  uneat- 
ably  bad  potatoes  into  a  heap  for  the  benefit  of  the 
widow  M'Gurk's  pig :  "  Sure,  it's  a  poor  case  to  be 
makin'  waste  for  the  fcedin'  of  other  people's  fat 
bastes.  Judy  llj-an  was  say  in'  she'd  heard  tell  the 
Dunnes'  son  below,  that's  away  off  somewheres 
abroad  this  two  year,  was  after  sendin'  them  home 
the  price  of  a  grand  young  pig,  they'll  be  gettin' 
oodles  o'  money  on  at  the  fair  afore  Lent.  But 
ah,  sure,  where's  there  anybody  to  do  us  a  hand's 
turn  ?  as  I  sez  to  her."  But  there  Peg  would  be, 
ready  primed  to  countermine  this  anecdote  with 
Mrs.  Ouigley's  cousin,  who  had  never  had  a  day's 
health  ever  since  he  had  gone  off  to  live  away  at 
Shanasheen,  and  a  man  Brian  Kilfoyle  knew,  who 
went  up  to  the  north  ten  year  ago,  and  had  never 
been  heard  of  from  that  good  day  to  this.  Biian 
thought  like  enough  somcthin'  might  ha'  happint 
him. 

Considered  as  arguments,  Peg's  httle  narratives 
may  not  appear  particularly  cogent  ;  yet  much 
further-fetched  ones  were  resorted  to  by  both 
factions.  Even  Mad  Bell's  and  Crazy  Christie's 
contributions  on  the  question  were  not  disregarded. 
Indeed.  Mrs.   Sheridan   laid   no   small  stress   upon 


58  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Bell's  report  of  a  conversation  which,  during  one 
of  her  rambles,  she  had  had  with  a  man  lately- 
returned  from  New  York.  It  varied  in  details 
from  time  to  time,  but  was  substantially  to  the 
effect  that,  "  In  thim  parts,  if  there's  anythin'  3-e're 
a-wantin',  all  ye've  got  to  do  is  to  turn  a  handle 
round  and  round  a  few  odd  times,  and  there  you 
arc,  wid  no  more  troub'e  about  it."  "  So  maybe," 
Mrs.  Sheridan  would  comment,  finding  herself 
unable  to  accept  this  scheme  of  things  in  quite  all 
its  beautiful  simplicity,  "  the  crathur  hasn't  ex- 
actually  comperhinded  the  rights  of  it  ;  but  if 
there's  any  sense  in  it  at  all  at  all,  that  must  be  an 
uncommon  convanient  country  to  git  one's  livin' 
in." 

The  experiences  of  the  O'Driscoll  family  were 
of  course  made  to  do  yeoman's  service  on  Larry's 
side  ;  but  that  is  a  mournful  history  which  must 
have  a  chapter  to  itself 

So  this  winter  dragged  on  heavily  towards 
lengthening  days,  and  Larry  at  times  thought 
hopefully  that  when  the  open  spring  weather  came, 
and  the  potato-setting  and  turf-cutting  began,  he 
would  be  the  better  able  to  demonstrate  his  raison 
d'etre  at  Lisconnel  ;  while  in  moments  of  despon- 
dency he  felt  as  if  his  will  were  being  sapped  by 
the  continued  assaults  of  public  opinion,  till  he 
must   needs  surrender   himself  to    the    conviction 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  59 

that  it  was  his  duty  to  go  away  and  buidcn  his 
family  no  longer.  But  it  was  well  on  towards  the 
end  of  March,  when  there  occurred  what  seemed 
to  him  a  grand  opportunity  of  proving  himself 
capable  and  useful — a  member  of  the  establish- 
ment whom  "  the  rest  of  them  "  would  think  twice 
of  wishing  to  transport. 

One  forenoon,  Biddy  and  Paddy  and  Johnny 
and  Katty  and  Rosanne  and  Joe — the  last-named 
waddled  a  long  way  behind  the  others,  and  could 
not  as  yet  roar  articulately— came  bawling  home 
with  the  news  that  Andy  was  just  after  taking 
the  hand  off  of  him  with  his  ould  clasp-knife  down 
below  fc>rnint  Ilughey  Ouigley's  turf-stack.  This 
was  happily  an  exaggerated  version  of  the  disaster; 
but  Andy  really  had  given  his  right  wrist  an  ugly 
gash,  which  obliged  him  to  seek  surgical  aid  from 
Dan  O'Beirne,  the  blacksmith  at  Duffclanc,  and 
which  threatened  to  cripple  him  for  some  little 
time  to  come.  It  was  a  vexatious  accident,  for 
the  slowly-relaxing  frosts  had  at  last  allowed 
people  to  think  of  getting  in  their  potatoes,  already 
belated  enouL;h.  Liscoimel  always  breathes  more 
freely  when  once  its  potatoes  are  down,  and  the 
earlier  the  better,  for  every  reason.  The  likelihood 
of  a  good  crop  is  increased,  and  people  have  a 
soothing  sub-consciousness  that  something  is  all 
the  while  being  done  on  their  behalf  out  of  sight 


6o  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

among  the  trenches  and  lazy-beds.  Their  stock 
of  seed,  too,  is  thus  ensured  against  the  possibility 
of  being  desperately  eaten  in  any  crisis  of  short 
commons.  So  much,  however,  depended  on  the 
crop,  that  the  Shcridans  thought  it  prudent  to 
await  Andy's  convalescence,  rather  than  proceed 
with  their  sowing  while  he  was  incapacitated  ;  and 
works  therefore  came  to  a  standstill  in  the  plot 
behind  their  cabin. 

It  chanced  one  morning  a  few  days  later  that 
Larry,  returning  from  an  early  ramble,  found  most 
of  his  family  absent.  Andy,  accompanied  by 
several  of  his  brethren,  had  gone  to  O'Beirne  the 
blacksmith,  and  the  others  were  somewhere  out 
on  the  bog,  leaving  only  the  stiff-jointed  Peter  and 
limping  Peg  at  home.  Peter  was  never  cheerful 
company,  and  Peg  to-day  would  do  nothing  but 
cower  over  the  fire  with  her  knitting,  for  she  was  suf- 
fering from  a  bad  fit  of  neuralgia,  or,  as  she  put  it, 
was  "  destroyed  entirely  wid  the  face-ache."  Larry 
accordingly  went  out  of  doors  again  in  quest  of 
entertainment.  It  was  a  grim,  rayless  morning, 
the  horizon  veiled  round  and  round  with  a  dusky, 
powdery  haze,  of  the  peculiar  hue  and  texture 
seen  only  on  a  day  possessed  by  the  devil  of  an 
east  wind.  That  wind,  too,  showed  all  its  dis- 
tinctively vicious  qualities  in  an  exalted  degree. 
Its  piercing  fangs  seemed   to  have  been  whetted 


Oi^lE  100  MANY.  6i 

on  a  myriad  icebergs,  and  its  bitter  blasts  to 
breathe  from  over  continents  of  shrouding  snow  ; 
it  was  a  wind  that  simultaneously  stung  and  be- 
numbed, that  felt  dankly  chill  as  the  touch  of  a 
drowned  hand,  and  yet  parched  aridly  as  if  its 
mission  were  to  bake  the  veins  of  the  earth  with 
frost.  The  very  grass-blades  it  passed  over  seemed 
to  lose  colour  and  to  shiver  stiffly,  as  if  their  sap 
were  congealed.  But  Larry  did  not  trouble  him- 
self about  the  cold,  for  he  had  scarcely  crossed  the 
swampy  patch  that  brought  him  to  their  little  field 
when  he  was  seized  by  a  great  idea.  There  lay 
the  half-dug  trenches,  which  had  been  begun  on 
the  day  before  Andy's  accident,  with  tools  strewn 
around  ready  to  hand  whenever  work  should  be 
resumed,  and  Larry  suddenly  resolved  that  he 
would  undertake  it  now.  It  would  be  a  grand 
thing,  he  said  to  himself,  if  he  could  get  down, 
at  any  rate,  a  good  few  of  those  potatoes  over 
which  his  father  was  at  the  present  minute  help- 
lessly fuming  and  fretting  in  his  gloomy  corner 
He  would  set  about  it  at  once,  before  anybody 
knew  what  he  was  doing.  No  one  had  ever  sug- 
gested his  attempting  such  a  thing,  because  indeed 
no  one  would  have  dreanxcd  of  entrusting  so 
critical  a  task  to  a  quare  blundering  gaby  like 
Larry  ;  therefore  he  had  not  any  prohibitions  or 
scoffs  to  give  him  pause,  and  he  felt  strongly  that 


62  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

*.hc  accomi)lishment  of  the  feat  single-handed  would 
■>rove  a  splendid  leather  in  his  cap. 

Thus  inspired  he  fell  to  forthwith,  and  toiled 
hugely,  until  when  he  broke  off,  and  leaned  panting 
on  his  spade  to  review  his  labours,  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  narrow  plot  lay  ready  for  the  seed. 
To  give  him  his  due,  the  spade-work,  which  he 
contemplated  with  all  your  jack-a-dream's  peculiar 
pride  and  satisfaction  in  any  casual  bit  of  practical 
achievement,  had  been  thoroughly  and  properly 
done,  and  so  far  things  were  well  enough.  But 
Larry  had  determined  to  make  a  job  of  it,  and  nol? 
to  desist  until  his  drills  were  safely  planted.  So 
he  fetched  a  bag  of  the  seed  potatoes  from  their 
nook  behind  the  turf-heap  indoors,  unbeknownst 
to  his  father  and  Peg.  "  Musha,"  he  said  with 
guile,  to  account  for  his  rustling,  "  I'm  just  drivin' 
th'ould  hen  off  of  roostin'  on  Sally's  ould  shawl  " 
— and  he  presently  was  seated  on  the  low  wall, 
scientifically  slicing  away  with  the  worn  stump 
of  knife  blade,  two  inches  long,  which  had  cut  out 
the  Sheridan  family's  "  eyes  "  for  many  a  season's 
crop.  The  last  pale  whitey-brown  section  had 
been  earthed  over,  and  Larry  was  dealing  a  few 
superfluous  final  pats  with  the  flat  of  his  broad 
grijfazvn^  congratulating  himself  the  while  that 
he  had  got  through  undisturbed,  and  could  now 
display  his  doings  as  a  triumphant  surprise,  when 


ONE  TOO  A/AAy.  63 

Peg  came  halting  out  of  doors  and  up  to  the  field- 
dyke.  Mer  eye  was  at  once  caught  by  the 
dangling  potato-sack,  and  in  a  moment  she  had 
surmised  the  whole  calamity. 

"  Mercy  on  us  all  alive,  Larry,"  she  said,  "you've 
nivcr  been  meddlin'  with  the  pitaties  this  day?" 

"  Hcdad  have  I,"  quoth  Larry,  with  a  cheerful- 
ness half  bravado,  for  Peg's  tone  awakened  a 
horrible  foreboding,  which  he  dared  not  face;  "look 
at  the  rows  I've  got  set,  and  good  luck  to  them. 
Sure  it's  great  weather  I've  made  of  it  this  mornin' 
entirely." 

"  Then  it's  lost  we  are.  The  blight's  in  the  win', 
and  sorra  the  thrace  of  a  one  of  them  '11  iver  be 
seen  above  the  ground." 

Larry  all  at  once  knew  that  it  v/as  very  cold. 
Mis  own  hands  were  benumbed,  and  an  icy  grasp 
suddenly  clutched  at  his  heart.  Peg  had  spoken 
truly  :  the  east  wind  had  brought  with  it,  like 
a  lurking  assassin,  the  murderous  black  frost, 
which  stabs  and  slays  all  life  and  growth  in  its 
frail  first  beginnings.  And  in  the  teeth  of  that 
he  had  cut  up  and  planted  nearly  a  bagful  of  their 
hoarded  seed  potatoes.  He  stared  blankly  round 
the  hard  hodden-grey  sky,  and  then  at  the  neigh- 
bours' little  blown  fields,  where  never  a  soul  was 
working,  and  then  at  the  rush  fringed  puddle  on 
Peg's  side  of  the  d\kc,  and  he  saw  that  its  edges 


6.4  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

had  gathered  a  flaky  ice  film.  "  Thrue— thrue  for 
you,"  he  faltered,  and  stood  looking  helplessly 
from  the  flaccid  sack  to  the  smooth-swelling  ridges, 
a  haggard  and  tatterdemalion  Despair. 

"Ye  great  stupid  mischief-makin'  gomeral,"  said^ 
Peg,  "  ye  meddlin'  good-for-nothin'  jackass,  that 
can't  keep  your  hands  off  interferin'  wid  what 
ye've  no  call  to  be  touchin'.  Look  at  what  you're 
afther  doin'  on  us — the  best  part  of  a  sackful  as 
good  as  slung  down  a  bog-houle.  Sure  little 
Paddy'd  ha'  known  better  than  to  be  cuttin'  and 
sovvan'  on  the  one  day,  let  alone  when  the  aire's 
teemin'  wid  the  black  frost.  Och,  but  it's  a  heart- 
scald  to  have  the  likes  of  such  a  sthookawn 
stravadin'  about  lookin'  out  for  harrum  to  be  doin* 
and  throuble  to  make.  It's  no  more  than  the 
truth  they're  spakin'  when  they  do  be  sayin'  ye VI 
a  right  to  take  off  yerself  out  o'  this  to  some  place 
where  ye  might  ruinate  and  desthroy  all  bef)rc 
}'ou,  and  no  matter  to  us.  That's  all  ye're  fit  for, 
so  it  is.  Just  wait  till  father  and  Andy  hare  tell 
of  it — just  wait,  ye  big  omadhawn,  standin'  there 
siar-gazin'  like  a  stuck  pig.  The  tomfoolery  of 
you  would  annoy  an  ould  crow.  Och,  wirra  such 
a  thing  to  go  do  ;  Pm  fairly  sickened  wid  you,  and 
that's  a  fac'.     Of  all  the  bosthoons " 

Peg  expressed  herself  as  forcibly  as  we  should 
have  done  if  confronted  at  equally  close  quarters 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  65 

with  a  prospect  of  more  than  semi-starvation. 
She  was  further  exasperated  by  a  sense  that  her 
ally  had  irretrievably  disgraced  and  discredited 
her  partisanship.  Altogether  her  feelings  were  so 
much  perturbed  that  she  did  not  remark  how 
silent  Larry  was,  neither  attempting  any  defence 
nor,  as  would  have  been  more  characteristic, 
breaking  out  into  vehement  self-abuse.  He  only 
said,  as  he  gazed  down  the  length  of  a  freshly 
drawn  furrow,  "  And  all  the  while  I  might  as  well 
have  been  diggin'  me  grave." 

On  the  following  morning  Larry  was  not  indoors 
at  breakfast-time,  which  did  not  surprise  his 
angered  family,  as  he  often  roamed  off  early,  and 
on  this  occasion  had  no  reason  to  anticipate  an 
enjoyable  meal.  But  Peg  was  soon  afterwards 
rather  astonished  at  finding  his  two  "  ould  flitthers 
of  books  "  stuffed  into  the  niche  in  the  wall  where 
she  kept  her  knitting  and  yarn,  for  he  always 
stowed  them  away  carefully  in  a  receptacle  of  their 
own.  And  about  sunset  Andy,  returning  from  the 
blacksmith's,  brought  the  news  how  Larry  had 
passed  by  there  in  the  grey  of  the  morning,  going 
towards  the  Town,  and  had  left  word  with  Dan 
O'Beirne  that  he  was  off  to  Kenport,  where  he 
would  get  a  passage  in  the  American  steamer. 
Then  Peg  knew  that  Larry's  library  was  a  farewell 
gift.  Eveiybody  else  thought  that  the  whole  thing 
6 


66  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

was  just  a  bit  of  blathers  like,  and  that  they  would 
have  him  streeling  home  again  in  a  couple  of  days ; 
but  Peg  from  the  first  said,  "  Niver  a  fut." 

The  weeks  which  converted  all  the  others  to  her 
opinion  passed  heavily  for  her.  Desertion  of  your 
comrade  at  a  pinch  is  an  ill-favoured  spectre  to 
look  back  upon  under  any  circumstances,  and 
when  the  chances  seem  to  be  all  against  your  ever 
more  having  an  opportunity  of  making  amends 
for  your  defection,  it  often  grows  so  fascinatingly 
hideous  that  you  cannot  easily  look  the  other  way. 
Peg  in  those  days  met  it  at  every  turn,  looming 
lividly  against  a  cloud  of  reminiscence,  which  was 
rapidly  becoming  charged  with  remorse.  Nor 
under  its  oppressive  lowering  could  she  find  any 
clearer  gleam  of  consolation  than  the  chance  that 
Larry  might  some  day  be  writing  home,  perhaps 
from  the  unknown  regions  of  Queenstown,  or  at 
any  rate  from  wherever  he  came  to  in  the  States. 
And  then.  Peg  thought  to  herself,  she  would  get 
Brian  Kilfoyle  to  scrawm  a  letter  for  her — she  had 
pennies  enough  to  buy  the  stamp — and  bid  him 
to  come  back  to  them  out  of  that  by  the  next 
boat,  and  never  to  be  minding  about  the  old 
pitaties;  they  didn't  matter  a  thraneen.  Or  maybe 
by  some  manner  of  means  she  could  even  send 
him  through  the  post  the  pair  of  socks  she  had 
just  finis'^ed  knitting  to  sell  at  Corr's.     She  felt 


ONE  TOO  MANY.  67 

that  if  she  could  do  that,  the  throbbing  pang 
might  go  out  of  her  Hfc,  and  leave  only  an  en- 
durable ache.  But  it  grew  worse  and  worse  while 
she  waited  for  Larry's  letter. 

She  told  her  family  how  lovely  it  was  up  on  the 
ridge  since  the  weather  had  grown  so  soft,  dis- 
ingenuously leading  them  to  infer  that  she  sat 
there  all  day  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  nature, 
whereas  in  truth  the  gentle  April  breezes  and  mild 
daisy  and  forget-me-not  sky  merely  enabled  her 
to  concentrate  her  whole  attention  undiverted  upon 
her  watch  along  the  ribbon  of  road.  Another  thing 
they  did  was  to  bring  on  very  fast  the  potatoes, 
now  all  planted.  Even  Larry's  unchancy  rows  had 
not  missed  after  all,  for  they  showed  little  green 
shoots,  at  the  sight  of  which  his  half-sister  Biddy, 
a  good-natured  child,  nearly  cried  her  eyes  out. 
But  Peg  could  do  nothing  better  than  call  herself 
a  black-hearted  baste,  which  was  cold  comfort,  and 
say  passionately  to  little  Johnny,  who  shouted  to 
her,  jubilant  at  the  discovery,  "  Och  whisht,  and 
bad  manners  to  you,  you  moidherin'  brat ;  you're 
all  the  one  thing  ! " — which  was  no  comfort  worth 
speaking  of  at  all.  However,  by  this  time  the 
tidings  she  waited  for  so  impatiently  were  already 
on  their  road. 

People  who  do  not  dwell  too  many  leagues 
beyond  man's  life,  can  count  upon  the  advantage, 


68  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

if  advantage  it  be,  of  receiving  tlieir  bad  n_ws  in  a 
flash  within  an  hour  or  so  after  date,  although  their 
hopes  may  have  gone  to  wrack  on  the  hot  sands 
under  an  eastern  sunblaze,  while  they  were  groping 
businesswards  through  a  London  fog.  But  such 
things  come  to  Lisconnel  by  much  more  circuitous 
routes.  During  those  April  days  Peg's  messenger, 
by  slow  stages  of  stone-dyked  countryside,  between 
ever  smaller  and  lonelier  hamlets,  was  making  his 
way  thither  in  the  person  of  a  little  feeble-gaited 
sprissaivn  of  a  man,  who  looked  as  if  he  had  escaped 
from  a  vampire-cave,  but  who  in  reality  had  been- 
lately  discharged  from  the  workhouse  infirmary  at 
Ken  port. 

He  appeared  in  Lisconnel  one  amber-wested 
evening,  under  the  delusion  that  he  had  arrived  at 
Sallinbeg,  for  he  had  strayed  many  miles  out  of  his 
weary  way  ;  and  he  was  so  tired  and  "  took-a- 
back,"  that  he  had  not  spirits  to  launch  into  speech 
at  any  length  until  after  the  supper  to  which 
Hughey  Quigley  made  him  welcome,  and  which 
Mrs.  Pat  Ryan  enriched  with  the  "sup  of  thick 
milk  "  she  had  saved  for  the  morning's  breakfast. 

Then  in  the  course  of  the  conversation,  which 
had  drawn  several  of  the  neighbours  to  Quigley  s, 
the  stranger  remarked  in  his  plaintive  southern 
sing-song :  "  Now  that  I  remimber,  there  was  a 
chap  from  these  parts  I  met  wid,  and  I  laid  up 


OXE  TOO  MAW.  69 

down  away  there — Lisconncl,  ay  bedad,  it  was 
there  he  said  he  come  from  ;  but  the  name  of  him's 
out  of  me  head  this  instiant — a  young  sHp  of  a  lad 
wid  legs  to  him  the  length  of  a  three-month  foal's. 
Och  begorrah,  I've  got  him  after  all — Sheridan — 
that's  what  it  was  sure  enough — Larry  Sheridan." 

Peg  was  the  only  one  of  her  family  who  happened 
to  be  present,  crouched  unobtrusively  round  an 
angle  of  the  dresser.  If  she  had  been  a  wild 
creature  in  a  forest,  you  would  now  have  thought 
she  had  heard  a  twig  snap. 

"  'Deed  then,  that  will  ha'  been  Peter  Sheridan's 
Larry  — him  that's  took  off  to  the  States.  Well 
now,  to  think  of  your  fallin'  in  wid  him." 

"  The  States ,?— sure  enough  he  had  great  talk  of 
the  States  out  of  him  ;  but  be  the  time  he  come 
into  the  infirm'ry  he  wasn't  fit  to  be  thravellin'  the 
len'th  of  the  ward,  that  indifferent  he  was,  let  alone 
skytin'  over  the  ocean-says." 

"To  the  infirm'ry,  was  you  sayin'  ?  Sakes  alive 
sure  what  at  all  ailed  the  misfortnit  bein'  ?  Good- 
ness pity  him,  to  be  took  bad,  and  he  in  a  strange 
place.  But  niver  a  hap'orth  had  the  crathur  amiss 
wid  him  when  he  quit  out  of  this." 

"  'Twas  an  awful  could  he'd  got  on  the  chest ; 
I'm  tould  they  put  a  grand  title  to  it  in  the  paper. 
Faith,  I  took  as  sarious  a  one  mesclf,  ivery  inch  of 
it,  but  the  doctor  said  he  was  perished  and  starved 


70  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

vvid  thrampin'  about  in  the  sevare  weather.  How- 
some'er,  his  mind  was  dead  set  on  the  emigration. 
He  lay  next  bed  to  mine,  and  I  would  be  harin' 
him  axin'  continyal  if  the  Queenstown  boat  did  be 
about  startin'  yet.  So  the  Sisters  knew  well  enough 
he  was  disthressin'  himself  for  fear  she'd  be  off 
widout  him,  and  just  to  pacify  him  they'd  declare 
be  this  and  be  that  she  was  lyin'  there  alongside 
the  quay,  wid  ne'er  a  thought  o'  stirrin'  in  her  head 
■ — and  she,  mind  you,  half-ways  to  wheriver  she 
might  be  goin'  all  the  while. 

"Och  now  the  Sisters  do  be  rael  charitable  ladies  : 
there  was  one  of  them  used  to  bring  me  the  half  of 
her  own  bit  of  dinner  of  a  day  I  didn't  fancy  what 
I  had  for  meself  Well,  one  evenin'  he  took  a  bad 
turn,  a  sort  of  vvakeness  like,  and  they  thought  it 
might  be  goin'  he  was,  and  they  sent  afther  the 
doctor  in  a  hurry.  But  be  that  time  he  was  some- 
thin'  better  agin,  and  the  doctor  seemed  a  thrifle 
put  out  at  bein'  called  onnecessary.  '  It's  another 
false  alarrum  yeVe  given  me.  Sister  Theresa,'  sez 
he.  Anyway,  when  the  young  fellow  began  axin' 
afther  the  steamboat,  the  doctor  tould  him  shortish 
that  she  was  away  wid  herself  three  days  since, 
and  he  might  as  well  be  puttin'  the  notion  out  of 
his  mind.  Sure,  when  he  said  that,  I  heard  Sister 
Theresa  goin'  tchuck  tclnick  to  herself,  thinkin'  the 
crathur'd  be  annoyed,  but  he  seemed  all  as  well 
contint. 


ONE  TOO  MANY  71 

" '  Och  then,  glory  be  to  God/  se::  he,  *  if  th'  ould 
baste's  off  at  last,  I  can  be  steppin'  home.  Bcdad 
but  I've  been  away  from  them  all  one  while.  May- 
be they'll  not  think  so  bad  be  this  time  of  them 
woful  ould  ' — praties  I  think  he  said — '  and  any- 
way,' sez  he,  '  Peg  '11  make  it  up  wid  me  for  sartin 
sure.* 

"  He  kep'  such  talkin'  of  a  Peg  he  had.  that  we 
settled  he'd  fell  out  wid  his  sweetheart  about 
somethin',  and  run  off  in  a  fantigue. 

"  Then  afther  that  he  was  aisier  than  common 
for  a  good  bit,  and  niver  a  word  out  of  him  ;  but 
later  on  in  the  night,  when  we  were  left  to  mind 
ourselves,  I  heard  him  discoorsin  away  to  himself 
at  a  great  rate  about  gittin'  up  early,  and  thrampin' 
home,  and  comin"  over  the  hill,  and  I  dunno  what 
all  besides.  So  sez  I  to  him — for  somcwhilcs 
if  you'd  slip  a  word  in,  he'd  answer  you  back 
raisonable,  and  otlicrwhiles  he  wouldn't  take  hould 
of  it,  but  just  pluthcrcd  along  widout  harin' — sez  I 
to  him  :  '  That's  a  fine  journey  you're  rcgulatin' 
tliere,'  sez  I  ;  '  div  you  think  \ou'll  iver  be  able 
for  it  to  morra  ? ' 

"'  Sure,'  sez  he,'  I  was  tbinkin'  they've  took  away 
me  ould  brogues  on  me  ;  but  if  the  Sister's  not  for 
givin'  me  them  back  agin,  1  could  aisy  make  a 
shift  to  do  widout  them,  l^'or  hail,  rain,  or  snow,' 
sez  he,  '  I'll  be  off  to-morra.' 


72  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"'Ay,  be  the  powers,  will  you,'  sez  I,  humourin' 
him  in  a  manner ;  '  sure  it's  not  an  ould  pair  of 
brogues,  boyo,  that'll  hinder  you  of  gettin'  home.' 

"  '  Troth  no,'  sez  he,  *  sure  I'd  go  barefut  on  me 
hands  and  knees  to  be  there  agin.' 

"  '  You've  a  great  opinion  whativer  of  that  place,' 
sez  I  to  him  " — the  stranger  glanced  towards  the 
door- framed  span  of  faint  green  twilight  sky  with 
an  expression  which  might  have  signified  that 
though  now  in  a  position  to  form  an  opinion  for 
himself,  he  had  resolved  upon  a  polite  reticence — 
"and  sez  he  to  me :  '  Och,  man  alive,  if  I  could  be 
seein'  a  sight  of  it,  and  the  whoule  of  them  agin, 
sure  'twould  just  put  the  life  in  me,  so  it  would  ; 
for  all  they  might  ha'  been  a  bit  cross  wid  me  the 
time  I  was  lavin'.  Whethen  it's  meself  'ud  be  the 
lucky  bosthoon  if  iver  I  got  the  chanst  to  be  sittin' 
there  under  the  ould  bank  in  the  warmth  of  the  sun, 
along  with  the  bits  of  books.  I'd  borry  the  loan 
of  them  now,'  sez  he,  '  from  Peg.  They're  thrash,' 
she  sez,  but  there  was  nothin'  else  I  had  to  be 
lavin'  her.  Sure,'  sez  he,  '  I'll  git  back  one  way  or 
the  other,  but  it's  a  long  thramp,  and  there's  a  quare 
sort  of  heaviness  in  the  ould  legs  of  me,  and  the 
win'  does  be  could — and  it's  cruel  lonesome.  Would 
you  think  now,'  sez  he,  peerin'  round  the  head  of 
his  bed  hopeful  like,  'there'd  be  e'er  a  chanst  you'd 
come  along  wid  me  that  far,  if  your  road  lies  that 


OXE  TOO  MANY.  73 

a-way  ?  'Twould  be  great  company  for  me,'  he 
sez. 

"  '  Och  murdher,'  sez  I,  '  and  is  it  in  any  state  I 
am  to  be  thrampin'  thramps,  and  me  tore  in  two 
wid  the  awfulcst  cough  at  all  ?  No,  me  fine  lad,  if 
you're  for  quittin'  out  of  this  to-morra,  'twill  be 
along  wid  yourself.'  And  the  young  chap  seemed 
rael  discouraged  at  that ;  fit  to  cry  he  looked. 
Faix,  I  remimber  the  face  of  him,  lanin'  up  there 
under  th'  ould  night-lamp,  wid  his  hair  standin'  on 
ind,  and  his  eyes  shinin'  out  of  his  head.  How- 
somediver,  he  sez  presintly,  like  as  if  he'd  been 
makin'  his  mind  up  to  it,  '  I  must  be  startin'  fine 
and  early,'  he  sez,  '  and  that's  a  fac' — Div  ye  see 
iver  a  glim  of  light  yit  comin'  at  the  window  .-' '  sez 
he — and  it  scarce  sthruck  twelve  o'clock. 

"'Sure  then,  if  it's  a  long  thramp  you're  goin',' 
sez  I,  humourin'  him  in  a  manner,  you  perceive, 
'  you'd  bctther  be  takin'  a  long  sleep  to  strenthen 
yourself  up  ;  and  no  fear  but  there's  plinty  of  time 
afore  you'll  see  daylight.' 

*"  I  will  so,'  sez  he,  sleepy  like,  'on'y  I  wish  I'd 
bid  good-night  to  Peg.' 

"  Well,  the  next  time  I  woke  up,  just  about  day 
glimmcrin',  I  thought  to  notice  him  brcathin'  a  bit 
quare,  and  I  was  considhcrin'  ma\be  I'd  a  right 
to  be  callin'  some  one.  But  thin  I  knew  there'd 
be  throuble  if  I  took  to  risin'  false  alarrums  ;  and 


74  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

after  a  minyit  he  was  quiet  enough  ;  so  I  just  lay 
still  where  I  was,  and  nary  another  stir  I  heard. 
But  when  the  Sister  come  in  at  six — may  the  saints 
have  me  sowl  if  the  young  chap  wasn't  lyin'  there 
stone-dead — ay,  and  turnin'  could  and  stiff." 

In  the  general  excitement  caused  by  the  cata- 
strophe of  the  strange  little  man's  story,  nobody 
took  note  of  Peg's  proceedings  or  demeanour,  and 
it  was  not  she  who  brought  home  the  news.  Later 
on,  however,  her  conduct  at  this  crisis  of  her  history 
became  the  subject  of  some  unfavourable  criticism 
at  Lisconnel. 

"  I'll  give  you  me  word,  ma'am,"  Mrs.  Quigley 
said  to  a  knot  of  neighbours  next  day,  "  I  met 
her  this  mornin'  fornint  me  house,  and  when  I 
stopped,  passin'  by,  and  was  sayin'  I  was  con- 
sarned  to  hear  tell  of  their  trouble  about  poor 
Larry,  and  this  way  and  that,  she  just  let  a  yell 
at  me  to  whisht  talkin',  and  took  off  wid  her  two 
hands  to  her  ears,  like  as  if  I  was  after  reivin' 
them  out  of  her  head,  and  me  merely  passin'  a 
friendly  remark." 

"  That  Peg's  a  quare-tempered  fairy  of  a  thing," 
said  Mrs.  Brian,  "  and  does  be  mostly  as  cross  as  a 
weasel." 

"  Well,  at  all  ivints,"  said  Judy  Ryan,  "  it's  no 
credit  to  her  not  to  have  more  fcelin'  in  her  for 
that  poor  lad,  and  he  oncommon  good-natured  to 


OXE  TOO  MANY.  75 

her  when  the  two  of  them  was  but  sHps  of  childer 
together.  But  it's  too  good-natured  Larry  always 
was — Heaven  be  his  bed!" 

Even  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  who  was  not  prone  to 
censorious  judgments,  said  that  it  did  seem,  so 
to  spake,  onnatural  of  her. 

But  though  Peg  may  not  have  expressed  her 
feelings  conventionally,  I  believe  they  were  strong 
and  durable,  likely,  perhaps,  to  be  henceforward 
as  permanent  a  fact  in  her  life  as  her  lame  foot  ; 
and  that  was  a  long  look-out  at  seventeen.  As  for 
her  possible  consolations,  they  had  been  whirled 
away  like  blossoms  caught  in  a  March  gale.  She 
had  only  one  of  them  left  :  I.arr}-  had  been  sartin- 
sure  that  she  would  have  made  it  up  with  him. 
So  she  might  be  worse  off  after  all. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  WET   DAY. 

When  we  meet  a  stranger  or  a  slight  acquaint- 
ance on  the  roads  about  Lisconnel,  we  always  say 
it's  a  fine  day,  unless  it  happens  to  be  actually 
pouring,  and  then  we  say  it's  a  fine  day  for  the 
country.  I  do  not  know  exactly  what  meaning  is 
attached  to  the  qualifying  clause,  for  the  rain  may 
all  the  time  be  trampling  down  the  tangled  oats 
and  rotting  the  potatoes — facts  which  neighbours 
and  friends  point  out  to  one  another  in  unam- 
biguous terms.  But  it  appears  to  be  a  mode  of 
speech  adopted  as  a  seemly  cloak  for  our  upper- 
most thoughts,  on  somewhat  the  same  principle 
that  we  avoid  choosing  our  own  engrossing 
domestic  troubles  as  a  topic  of  conversation  in 
mixed  society.  Fine  days  of  this  peculiar  kind 
often  come  to  Lisconnel  in  a  long,  dripping  series, 
and  this  was  the  case  with  one  of  which  I  am 
sometimes  reminded  when   I  hear  a  ballad-singer 

76 


A   WET  DAY.  77 

setting  up  a  hoarse  roulade  on  the  other  side  of 
the  window-sill  flower-boxes. 

It  was  towards  the  end  of  an  extremely  wet 
July,  during  which  the  district  had  been  drenched 
and  soaked  and  steeped  as  thoroughly  as  a  bundle 
of  rax  in  a  bog-hole,  though  with  no  similarly 
beneficial  result  ;  and  yet  the  wet  blanket  over- 
head showed  as  few  traces  of  wear  and  tear  as  if 
it  had  been  spread  out  for  the  first  time  only  that 
morning.  From  dawn  till  dusk  the  sun  found  not 
a  single  thin  place  to  glimmer  through  like  a  bad 
shilling,  and  the  far-distant  peaks  were  not  once 
conjecturable  behind  the  carefully  tucked-round 
curtain  of  hodden-grey  mist.  Lisconnel  is  pretty 
well  case-hardened  to  damp,  as  it  ought  to  be, 
considering  its  average  annual  rainfall — never  yet 
gauged.  An  ordinarily  heavy  downpour  keeps 
nobody  indoors,  except  when  it  is  accompanied 
by  a  high  wind.  On  a  wet  day  a  strong  gust  will 
send  groups  of  leisurely  conversational  loiterers 
flying  to  their  several  black  thresholds,  and  set 
women  screeching  to  their  children  to  come  in 
out  of  that  out  of  the  teems  of  rain,  under  which 
they  had  been  hitherto  disporting  themselves  un- 
molested. And  then  Lisconnel  puts  on  a  deserted 
aspect.  Still,  its  inhabitants  appear  ever  and  anon 
at  their  doorways,  much  as  amphibia  rise  to  the 
surface  to   breathe,  for  the   turf-reek,  blown   back 


78  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

and  beaten  down,  makes  an  interior  atmosphere 
amidst  which  the  best-seasoned  lungs  imperatively 
crave  a  whiff  of  fresher  air. 

This  particular  morning  was  wild  and  blustery, 
and  when  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  and  her  daughter-in-law 
stood  looking  out,  nobody  was  in  sight  save, 
tethered  on  the  opposite  grass-and-puddle  strip, 
their  own  black-and-white  goat,  who  had  faced 
away  from  the  wind,  and  gave  one  the  impres- 
sion of  being  lost  in  thought.  That  impression  was 
heightened  by  the  manner  in  which  the  creature 
from  time  to  time  nodded  its  head  slowly  and 
moodily,  as  if  dissatisfied  with  the  tenor  of  its 
meditations.  But  presently,  in  a  lull  between  the 
blasts,  a  skirl  of  vocal  music  rose  up  suddenly 
close  by — a  harsh  voice,  cracked  and  quavering, 
but  still  strong  enough  to  be  produced  with  start- 
ling effect  upon  the  silence. 

"Whisht,  Norah!  is  that  her  agin?"  said  Mrs. 
Kilfoyle.  "  Bedad  and  it  is — The  Colleen  Deelish 
she's  at  this  time.  'Twill  be  after  puttin'  her  out 
they  are." 

"  Very  belike,"  said  Mrs.  Brian,  craning  her  neck 
to  look  as  far  as  she  could  up  the  road.  "  Och, 
yis  ;  I  just  got  a  glimst  of  the  table  tiltin'  through 
the  door.  Now  I  call  that  bruttisli^  and  it  poltho- 
guin'  fit  to  drownd  a  water-rat." 

"  Sure  it's  little  enough  she'll  trouble  herself," 


A   WET  DAY.  79 

said  l\Trs.  Sheridan,  joining  the  ccnversation  from 
her  adjacent  door ;  "  she'd  as  lief  as  not  be  sittin' 
in  the  middle  of  a  pool  of  water,  the  crathur.  But 
I  can  see  her  from  here,  and  she's  got  grand 
shelter  under  the  wall  of  the  shed.  Bedad,  she's 
cocked  up  the  table  on  end  behind  her  back,  and 
is  croochin'  below  like  an  ould  hin  in  a  coop. 
Now,  if  there  was  a  hap'orth  o'  wit  in  her,  she 
might  ha'  got  on  one  o'  her  chairs  ;  but  maybe 
the  ground's  not  altogether  dhreeped  yit,  where 
she  is,  wid  the  way  the  wind's  comin'." 

"  It's  a  fine  thrate  of  music  she's  givin'  us  this 
mornin',  anyhow,"  said  Andy,  popping  out  his 
head  over  his  step-mother's  shoulder.  "  Yawpy- 
you'ly,  hullabaloola,  wirramaroory-rory-roory — Och, 
there  was  a  grand  one !  I  couldn't  aquil  that  now, 
not  if  I  put  stones  in  me  stockin's  and  howled  all 
night." 

Meanwhile,  shrill  and  strident  strains  continued 
to  proceed  from  one  of  the  two  cabins  which  stand 
at  a  few  perches'  distance  on  the  Kilfoyles'  side  of 
the  road  — on  the  left  hand,  that  is,  as  you  come 
over  the  knockawn  into  Lisconnel.  It  was 
screened  from  their  view  by  an  intervening  turf- 
stack,  or  they  could  have  seen  outside  the  door  a 
little  pile  of  furniture  stacked  Icg-in-air,  amongst 
which  a  white-clad  figure  crouched  in  bold  relief 
j^ainst  the  dark  ground  and  wet-blackened  wall. 


So  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

This  was  Mad  Bell,  and  these  were  her  nousehold 
gods  undergoing  temporary  ejectment. 

I  do  not  know  what  conjunction  of  circum- 
stances brought  it  about,  but  for  many  years  that 
cabin,  with  the  low  ridge  dwindled  away  behind 
it  and  with  its  door  opening  on  the  wide  brown 
bog,  was  jointly  tenanted  by  Big  Anne,  Mad  Bell, 
and  the  Dummy,  as  queer  a  trio,  maybe,  as  you 
could  find  under  one  roof  in  the  province  of  Con- 
naught.  Big  Anne  ranked  as  responsible  head  of 
the  establishment,  by  virtue  of  characteristics  much 
less  markedly  divergent  from  the  normal  type  than 
those  of  her  co-tenants,  both  of  whom  belonged 
to  the  category  of  unaccountable  persons,  in  Lis- 
connel's  opinion  "  as  apt  to  be  doin'  one  thing  as 
another."  She  was  indeed  merely  a  very  tall, 
large-boned  woman,  with  a  habit  of  walking  upon 
the  heels  exclusively  of  enormous  feet,  which 
enabled  her  neighbours  to  recognise  her  at  great 
distances  by  her  gait.  Nobody  would  have 
thought,  to  look  at  her,  that  she  was  sensitive 
on  the  subject  of  her  pcrs6nal  appearance,  yet 
she  never  did  forget  or  forgive  Biddy  Sheridan's 
indiscreet  remark  that  "  one  fut  of  Big  Anne's 
would  cover  two  of  the  flags  in  the  floorin'  of  the 
chapel-porch  down  beyant." 

The  Dummy,  a  short  squat  woman,  with  a  pale 
broad  face  and  shifty  light  eyes,  was  a  more  e.x- 


A   IVET  DAY.  8 1 

ceptional  personality,  and  on  the  whole  rather  an 
unpopular  one  among  us,  though  Big  Anne,  who 
had  the  best  opportunities  of  judging,  always  de- 
scribed her  as  "  a  quite  poor  crathur,"  which,  under 
the  circumstances,  might  no  doubt  be  deemed 
somewhat  damnatorily  faint  praise.  To  the  pre- 
sent day  it  is  a  disputed  point  in  Lisconnel  whether 
the  Dummy  were  really  dumb  or  only  malingering. 
There  is  one  fact  which  tells  strongly  in  favour  of 
those  who  maintain  the  thesis  "  that  she  could  have 
spoken  as  plain  as  any  mortial  sowl  if  she'd  so 
pleased,"  namely,  that  she  assumed  total  deafness, 
but  evidently  was  not  deaf;  for  she  would  start 
violently  if  you  yelled  suddenly  into  her  ear  or 
clattered  a  heavy  stone  against  the  dyke  close 
beside  her,  experiments  which  the  children  never 
wearied  of  trying.  Hence  it  is  not  an  unwarrant- 
able conclusion  that  both  infirmities  may  have 
been  feigned,  or  at  least  exaggerated,  for  profes- 
sional purposes,  the  Dummy  having  in  her  earlier 
days  led  a  vagrant  life.  Upon  this  hypothesis  her 
persistence  in  sustaining  the  character  was  re- 
garded as  unneighbourly.  They  are  obliged,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  admit  that  her  success  in  doing 
so  seemed  almost  incredibly  complete,  since  no 
authentic  instance  has  been  recorded  of  her  ever 
having  uttered  a  .syllable.  Vague  rumours  are 
current  to  the  effect  that  she  said  something  on 

7 


82  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

her  death-bed,  but  few  people  believe  them.  It  is, 
however,  a  well-established  fact  that  the  day  before 
she  died  she  laboriously  extricated  her  savnigs,  to 
the  amount  of  sixpence  in  silver  and  twopence  in 
coppers,  from  a  pouch  sewn  up  in  her  sleeve,  and 
made  clear  by  pantomimic  signs  how  she  wished 
the  woman  who  had  befriended  her  in  her  last 
illness  to  expend  the  sum  on  sugarsticks  for  the 
children — a  testamentary  disposition  which  gave 
great  satisfaction. 

As  for  Mad  Bell,  her  title  to  insanity  rested, 
perhaps,  on  a  less  questionable  foundation  than 
the  Dummy's  pretensions  to  deafness.  It  may 
seem  antecedently  probable  that  in  an  unsophisti- 
cated little  community  like  Lisconnel  much  scope 
would  be  found  for  the  development  of  indivi- 
duality, and  that  there,  if  anywhere,  one  might 
strike  out  unchallenged  into  unconventional  paths. 
The  contrary  rather  is  the  case.  A  very  sligiit 
deviation  from  certain  recognised  lines  of  conduct 
suffices  there  to  write  you  down  roundly  as  mad 
or  crazy,  with  no  euphemistic  flourishes  of  '*  eccen- 
tric" or  "  peculiar."  It  is  true  that  the  adjectives 
are  used  in  a  considerably  less  disparaging  and 
disabling  sense  than  they  have  elsewhere,  and  that, 
once  fairly  appropriated,  they  confer  a  license 
ivhich  often  permits  the  holder  to  do  what  seems 
good    unto    him    with    more    than    other    men's 


A   WET  DA  Y.  83 

freedom  from  hampering  criticism.  Thus,  her 
neighbours  said,  "  Well,  Mad  Bell,  how's  your- 
self this  long  while  ?  "  just  as  respectfully  as  if 
they  had  addressed  her  as  missis  or  nuiain,  and 
nobody  thought  the  worse  of  her  because  she  now 
and  again  "  stravaded  away  wid  herself  the  dear 
knows  where,"  and  might  not  reappear  for  weeks 
or  months.  I  must  own  that  her  aspect  on  this 
wet  day  was  odd  enough.  She  had  lately  returned 
from  a  protracted  excursion,  in  the  course  of  which 
somebody  had  bestowed  upon  her  a  huge  old  white 
felt  Gainsborough  hat  with  blue  velvet  rosettes 
and  streamers — she  must  have  gone  a  long,  long 
way  from  Lisconnel  ere  she  reached  the  region  of 
such  head-gear.  This  she  wore  surmounting  the 
folds  of  a  rough  white  woollen  wrap,  such  as  have 
in  these  bad  times  begun  to  supersede  the  more 
expensive  blue  clotii  cloaks  of  Galway,  and  her 
little  wedge  of  yellow  face  peered  out  beneath  with 
a  goblinish  effect.  If  a  wizened  lemon  could  look 
up  shrewdly  at  you,  it  would  be  curiously  like  Mad 
Bell's  visage.  Altogether  she  was  a  figure  )'ou 
would  have  glanced  at  again,  even  if  you  had  not 
come  across  it  sitting  among  upturned  chair  and 
table-legs  on  the  edge  of  a  bog-track,  in  a  down- 
pour of  rain,  and  singing  "  The  Rising  of  the  Moon  " 
at  the  top  of  its  voice. 

Her   situation    demands   an    explanatory    note 


84  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

As  a  rule,  Mad  Bell  lived  on  fairly  harmoriious 
terms  with  her  house-mates.  But  she  had  one 
idiosyncrasy  with  which  they  could  not  put  up. 
This  was  an  occasional  propensity  for  bursting 
forth  into  song,  loud,  long,  and  drawn  from  an 
apparently  inexhaustible  repertoire,  which  might 
have  made  the  fortune  of  any  average  street 
musician.  Perhaps  Big  Anne  and  the  Dummy 
had  unusually  sensitive  musical  ears,  or  perhaps 
they  had  not  been  educated  up  to  such  elaborate 
performances  ;  for  little  singing  is  to  be  heard  in 
Lisconnel,  and  that  little  is  seldom  more  than  the 
low  croon  to  which  a  woman  might  put  her  child 
asleep  or  milk  her  goat.  Be  this  as  it  may,  they 
could  not  by  any  means  endure  Mad  Bell's  lays. 
Accordingly,  whenever  she  "  settled  herself  for 
a  screechin'  match  " — Big  Anne's  inappreciative 
phrase — they  adopted  summary  and  stringent 
measures.  Part  of  the  household  furniture  was 
understood  to  be  her  private  property,  how 
acquired  nobody  clearly  knew,  though  it  was 
commonly  associated  with  the  tradition  that 
"  Mad  Bell  had  come  of  very  dacint  people,  mind 
you.  And  now  the  first  penetrating  notes  of 
one  of  her  interminable  ballads  were  always  the 
signal  for  her  fellow-lodgers  to  seize  upon  a 
couple  of  rush-bottomed  chairs,  a  small  deal  table 
and   a    little    black-looking    clothes-horse,   all    of 


A  WET  DAY.  85 

which  they  deposited  outside  the  door.  I  cannot 
say  whether  these  articles  constituted  precisely 
Mad  Bells  possessions  neither  more  nor  less,  or 
whether  the  whole  act  being,  so  to  speak,  sym- 
bolical and  ceremonial,  they  were  merely  selected 
as  conveniently  portable  ;  but  she  never  failed  to 
take  the  graceful  hint,  and  either  subsided  into 
silence,  or  if,  as  oftener  happened,  the  lyrical  im- 
pulse proved  irresistible,  followed  her  furniture  out 
of  doors,  and  there  carolled  to  her  heart's  content. 
It  seemed  to  have  come  upon  her  in  great  force 
this  morning,  for  a  full  hour  after  her  eviction  she 
was  still  singing  lustily,  with  an  impassioned 
fervour,  indeed,  which  suggested  that  she  must  be 
inspired  by  some  theme  admitting  of  a  poignant 
personal  application.  Yet  the  burden  of  her  song 
was  in  reality  nothing  less  remote  than  a  string  of 
rather  disjointed  reflections  upon  the  character  of 
Queen  Bess.  By  that  time  the  wind  had  sunk 
away,  and  the  steady  patter  of  drops,  which  kept 
the  puddles  dancing  round  dances,  did  not  deter 
the  children  from  standing  about  to  listen.  They 
remained  at  a  wary  distance,  however,  and  only 
those  who  were  furthest  off  squeaked  in  mimicrj' 
of  her  most  ornate  trills  and  flourishes ;  for  Mad 
Bell  sometimes  lost  her  temper,  and  was  then  an 
alarming  person.  Judy  Ryan  once  said  that  to 
hear  her  curse  was  enough  to  terrify  all  creation, 


86  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

from  the  saints  sleepin'  on  their  feather-beds  o* 
glory,  to  the  Httle  midge-weevils  hatchin'  of 
themselves  in  the  bottoms  of  the  ould  bog-holes. 
But  Judy  always  has  had  a  gift  for  using  im- 
pressive figures  of  speech  in  moments  of  agitation. 
Only  the  approach  of  noon,  with  its  prospects  of 
dinner,  drew  away  Mad  Bell's  audience;  and 
when  Lisconnel  had  finished  dining,  the  concert, 
too,  was  over,  and  she  had  retreated  indoors,  chairs, 
table  and  all. 

At  Lisconnel  in  July,  dinner  is  often  something 
of  a  failure.  You  might  walk  past  many  of  the 
open  doors  while  it  is  in  progress,  without  coming 
upon  the  pleasant  familiar  smell  of  pitaties 
steaming  in  their  brown  jackets.  And  when  that 
is  the  case,  you  may  be  pretty  sure  there  is  no 
better  substitute  in  the  big  pot  than  a  "  brash  "  of 
the  gritty  yellow  Indian-meal,  which  people  must 
get  through  as  well  as  they  can,  thinking  them- 
selves lucky  if  a  drop  of  goat's  milk  is  forthcoming 
to  improve  matters  for  the  children.  For  what 
with  potatoes  "  going "  at  the  middle,  which 
causes  terrible  waste,  and  with  one's  being  prone 
to  fill  the  pot  very  full  so  long  as  one's  heap  looks 
large,  not  to  mention  the  lending  of  loans  to  a 
neighbour,  or  the  occasional  entertainment  ot 
some  frankly  ravenous  guest,  it  seldom  or  never 
happens  that  anybody's  store  holds   out   beyond 


A  WET  DA  Y.  87 

the  end  of  June;  while  it  seldom  or  never  happens, 
what  with  late  frosts  and  nipping  winds,  and  cold 
wet  summer  weather,  that  the  new  crop  becomes 
fit  for  "  lifting "  until  August  is  well  under  way. 
Hence  it  follows  that  July  with  its  soon-glimmer- 
ing, long-lingering  daylight,  when  one  wakens 
early  and  has  a  great  many  hours  to  put  over 
before  it  will  be  dusk  enough  to  think  of  sleep 
again,  is  even  proverbially  a  month  of  short- 
commons  and  hunger ;  a  Ramadan  with  no 
nightly  feasting  to  make  up  for  the  day's 
abstinence  ;  a  Lent  whose  fast  no  Church 
ordains  and  blesses.  Its  main  alleviation  has  to 
be  sought  in  the  drawing  on  of  harvest-time, 
which  naturally  comes  uppermost  as  a  topic  of  con- 
versation. You  might  have  safely  laid  a  wager  that 
at  eight  out  of  the  nine  dinner-parties  assembled 
in  Lisconnel  on  this  wet  day,  prospective  potatoes 
were  a  theme  of  discussion,  to  which  a  wistful  tone 
was  often  given  by  their  absence  in  any  more 
substantial  form. 

At  the  Pat  Ryans',  for  instance,  Mrs.  Pat  re- 
marked  hopefully,  as  she  distributed  little  dabs  of 
the  thick  yellow  porridge  along  the  edge  of  a 
broken  plate  to  cool  for  the  two  youngest  children  : 
"Well,  I  suppose  we'll  be  diggin'  next  week,  please 
goodnesr.,  if  the  weather's  anyways  christianable 
at  all." 


88  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"  And  bedad  we  won't  then,  after  that  agin," 
said  her  husband,  "  or  maybe  the  next  next  week 
to  the  back  o'  that.  Sure  the  forrardest  of  them's 
scarce  in  flower  yet,  let  alone  a  sign  of  witherin' 
on  them." 

"  Some  people  do  say,"  Mrs.  Pat  said,  looking 
disconcerted,  "  that  they're  fit  enough  for  liftin' 
the  first  minyit  ye  see  the  colour  of  a  blossom." 

'*  Some  people  sez  more  than  their  prayers," 
Pat  rejoined,  with  despondent  sarcasm,  "and  fit 
or  no  fit,  who's  to  get  them  dug  wid  the  rain 
washin'  them  out  o'  the  ground,  you  may  say, 
under  one's  feet .''  Take  care  that  it's  not  rotted 
they'll  be  on  us  afore  ever  they'll  have  a  chanst 
to  ripen.  It's  much  if  there  isn't  a  good  slam  or 
two  of  thundher  agin  we  git  done  wid  the  wet 
weather,  and  that  'ud  bring  the  blight  along  wid 
it  as  ready  as  anythin' — bad  scran  to  it.  ,  .  ,  And 
then  there's  the  turf;  sure  it  had  a  right  to  be  up 
dryin'  by  now,  but  you  might  as  well  go  to  cut  the 
mud  along  the  roadside.  Och,  it's  a  great  ould 
.summer  we're  havin'  this  time  entirely ;  it's  raison 
to  be  proud  of  itself" 

Pat  dropped  his  chin  dejectedly  into  his  palms 
as  he  sat  on  his  black  log  "forrum,"  and  drew 
patterns  aimlessly  on  his  plastic  floor,  with  the 
toe  of  a  many  creviced  brogue.  Lisconnel  cabin- 
interiors   are   all   more  or  less  examples  of  what 


A    WET  DA  Y.  89 

may  be  termed  the  cavern  style  of  domestic 
architecture,  as  their  darkness  tempered  by  in- 
artificial chinks,  together  with  their  free  exhibition 
of  undisguised  stone  and  earth  in  walls  and 
flooring,  suggest  a  cave-dwelling  in  almost  its 
severe  primaeval  rudeness.  The  Pat  Ryans'  does 
so  in  a  marked  degree,  perhaps  because  its  most 
prominent  articles  of  furniture  are  the  two  long 
rough  tree-trunks,  dug  out  of  the  bog  in  the 
progress  of  some  season's  turf-cutting,  which 
serve  the  family  for  seats.  The  master  of  the 
house,  sitting  pensively  on  the  end  of  one  of  them, 
might  now,  with  the  accessories  of  a  few  flint-axes, 
celts,  and  an  uncanny-looking  lizard  or  two,  have 
posed  well  enough  as  his  own  geological  ancestor 
dating  from  some  abysmal  palaeolithic  or  pre- 
glacial  period. 

Presently  Pat  raised  his  head  and  remarked  in 
an  injured  tone  :  "Arrah  now,  Denny,  I  wish  you'd 
lave  jobbin'  one  in  the  leg  that-a  way.  I  declare 
I  thought  it  was  a  horsefly  was  on  me." 

Denis  Ryan,  who  was  very  fat  and  about  three 
years  old,  only  grinned  nearly  all  round  his  head, 
and  said  triumphantly:  "Molly,  Molly — I'm  after 
stickin'  father  wid  the  handle  o'  me  spoo-an." 
Whereupon  something  smaller  and  still  fatter 
began  to  crawl  rapidly  over  the  floor,  evidently 
with  designs  of  participating  in  this  detectable 
amusement. 


90  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

"  Och,  bad  manners  to  you  chiluer,  can't  you  let 
the  man  ait  his  bit  o'  food  in  paice  ?  "  said  their 
mother  in  remonstrant  appeal.  "  Here's  your 
own  dinners  just  ready,  if  you'd  settle  down  to 
it  conformable,  and  quit  annoyin'  other  people." 

"  Oh,  for  that  matter,  I'm  finished,"  said  Pat, 
getting  up  ;  "I  was  on'y  waitin'  till  the  flurry  o' 
the  win'  was  gone  by  a  bit  to  step  down  and  fetch 
in  the  tools  from  where  we  were  work-in'  yister- 
day.  Tom  had  a  right  to  ha'  brought  them  in,  bat 
he  went  off  at  all  hours  along  wid  Ody  Rafferty 
and  th'  ould  ass." 

"  He  did  so,"  said  Mrs.  Pat,  "  and  I  wonder,  be 
the  same  token,  what  at  all  took  them  in  the 
sthrames  of  rain.  I  hope  to  goodness  he'll  not  be 
landin'  himself  in  the  middle  of  some  great  ould 
botheration  before  he's  done." 

"  How  should — ah — I  know  ?  "  said  Pat,  swallow- 
ing a  rainy  gust  as  he  crossed  the  threshold. 
"  Begob,  Hughey  Quigley's  scrapeen  of  oats  looks 
as  if  seven  mad  bullocks  had  been  rowlin'  them- 
selves in  it.  Divil  recaive  the  straw  of  it'll  ever 
stand  up  on  its  right  end  in  this  world.  Sure, 
except  to  be  raisin'  yourself  ruination  and  de- 
sthruc — "  The  rest  of  the  sentence  went  over  the 
bog  on  a  keening  blast. 

About  the  same  time,  the  Kilfoyles  next  door 
were    talking    over    their    dinner.     The    Kilfoyles' 


A   WET  DAY.  91 

cabin  was  at  one  period  an  object  which  caught 
the  eye  of  everybody  who  came  into  Lisconnel, 
and  though  much  toned  down  and  subdued,  it  even 
now  presents  a  rather  distinguished  appearance. 
For  one  day  Thady,  the  lad  who  used  to  bring  his 
mother  Httle  packets  of  tea  and  sugar,  until  he 
unhappily  had  his  skull  fractured  by  a  kicking 
cart-horse  down  below  on  Hilfirthy's  farm,  took  it 
into  his  head  to  do  a  job  of  whitewashing,  and 
carried  up  a  creclful  of  lumps  of  lime  from  Classon's 
kiln.  These  he  slaked  in  an  old  washing-tub,  still 
ruefully  referred  to  by  Mrs.  Brian  as  being  "  fit 
for  nothin'  else  from  that  good  hour  to  this,"  and 
splashed  away  with  a  lavishness  which  atoned  for 
want  of  skill,  or  any  handier  brush  than  a  besom 
of  dried  broom  and  heather.  In  his  thorough- 
goingness  he  whitened  the  very  turf-stack,  and 
looked  longingly  at  the  moss-rusted  thatch.  In 
consequence,  for  several  months  afterwards  the 
snowy  walls  gleamed  conspicuously  on  the  black 
bogland  far  and  wide  ;  and  though  that  was  years 
ago,  and  smoke  within  and  rain  without  have  been 
busily  effacing  Thady's  handiwork,  traces  of  it  still 
linger,  especially  on  the  east  end,  turned  away 
from  the  weather,  and  in  sheltered  angles  under 
the  eaves.  Moreover,  incited  by  a  consciousness 
of  their  remarkable  e.xterior,  the  Kilfoyles  sought 
to   improve   upon    it  by  bounding  themselves   on 


92  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

two  sides  with  an  elaborate  fence,  not  a  mere 
ordinary  stone  dyke.  This  remains  to  the  present 
day,  and  is  composed  of  materials  which,  save 
for  the  charm  of  variety,  do  not  strike  you  as 
superior  to  those  commonly  in  use.  Worn-out 
kettles  and  pots  are  among  them,  and  old  boxes, 
and  fragments  of  wrecked  carts,  mixed  with 
battered  tins  and  cannisters,  and  such  other  dibris 
of  civilisation  as  we  see  tossed  up  on  its  remotest 
verge,  looking  as  incongruous  and  unaccountable 
there  as  the  husks  and  shells  of  tropical  fruits' 
washed  in  with  the  slimy  green  ooze  and  brown 
trailing  wrack  on  a  northern  beach. 

Nothwithstanding  all  this  external  elegance, 
however,  the  Kilfoyles  fare  no  more  sumptuously 
than  the  rest  of  Lisconnel,  and  were  looking 
forward  quite  as  eagerly  to  their  new  potatoes. 
In  his  speculations  thereupon,  Brian,  who  had 
gone  further  a-harvesting  than  most  of  his  neigh- 
bours, and  abounded  in  travellers'  tales,  was  led. 
to  mention  a  wonderful  machine,  which  a  man 
had  told  him  another  man  had  actually  seen  some- 
where at  work.  "  A  most  surprisin'  little  affair 
of  a  yoke,  wid  twisted  wheels  to  it,  that  dhrud 
along  aisy,  and  just  whirreld  the  pitaties  up  out 
o'  the  ground  afore  they  knew  where  they  were." 

Mrs.  Brian  was  of  the  opinion  that  she'd  liefer 
not  have  any  such  a  thing  meddlin'  or  makin'  wid 


A    WET  DA  y.  93 

her  pitaties.  It  might  be  a  great  conthrivance,  but 
somehow  to  roke  them  out  that  way  wholesale 
seemed  onnatural  Hke.  To  which  her  husband 
responded  :  "  Sure,  accordin'  to  that  gait  o'goin,' 
it's  onnatural  to  turn  them  up  wid  a  graip  or  a 
spade ;  we'd  a  right  to  be  lavin'  them  sittin' 
paiceable  in  their  dhrills.  Or,  bedad,  they 
mightn't  ever  happen  to  get  planted  at  all  at 
all,  onless  it's  natural  to  be  sliverin'  them  in 
slices,  and  stickin'  them  down  in  thrinches.  I 
dunno  how  you're  goin'  to  manage  it,"  said 
Brian,  who  found,  like  other  controversialists, 
that  his  argument  was  beginning  to  demonstrate 
cumbrously  large  facts.  So  he  shunted  himself  on 
to  another  line  and  continued  :  "  'Twould  have  to 
be  a  cliver  divil  of  a  machine,  what  you  might 
call  rael  injanious,  before  'twould  whirrel  a  many 
pitaties  out  o'  some  o'  those  dhrills  of  ours.  There's 
a  terrible  dale  of  them  missed  on  us  in  odd  places 
— bad  cess  to  it — 'twas  them  blamed  late  frosts 
in  Aperl." 

Everybody  looked  grave  at  that  hearing,  and 
saw  inwardly  a  picture  of  the  dark-green  rows 
marred  by  gaps,  uglier  eyesores  for  Lisconnel 
than  for  the  bibliomaniac  the  blanks  in  his 
shelves  which  signify  a  broken  set. 

"  The  saints  send  it  may  turn  out  a  better  crop 
than  last  )-car's,"  said  Mrs.  Brian,  "  for  a  body  does 


94  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

git  fairly  sickened  wid  the  long  spell  of  this  stuff 
we're  after  haviii.'  Goodness  forgive  me  for 
grumblin'  agin'  it — but  it's  haythinish  it  is  ;  and  it 
comes  hard  on  the  childer,  poor  crathurs.  Tim, 
jewel,  stop  where  you  are,  and  don't  be  inticin' 
the  rest  of  them  to  folly  you  out  under  the  pours 
of  rain.  Sure,  I'm  heart-scalded  wid  bilin'  it — 
weary  on  it — you  might  keep  it  on  the  fire  till 
the  latter  end  of  Doomsday,  and  sorra  a  taste  o' 
goodness  there'd  been  in  it  when  ye'd  done." 

"  Why  sure,  Norah  me  dear,"  piped  little  old 
Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  wishing  to  please,  "  this  is  grand 
male  you  got  last  time — better  than  common.  I 
was  thinkin'  to  git  a  sort  of  flaviour  of  oaten-male 
off  of  it." 

"  Look-a  Norah,  me  mother's  ready  for  another 
bit,"  said  Brian,  gratified,  but  misunderstanding 
her. 

"  Och  to  gracious,  no  lad,"  protested  his  mother, 
while  his  wife  began  to  run  the  big  iron  spoon 
vigorously  round  the  pot.  "  Is  it  choked  yous  'ud 
be  havin'  me  all  out?"  And  she  took  refuge 
in  the  doorway,  towards  which  the  flaw-blown 
puddles  outside  seemed  to  make  incessant  short 
rushes,  invariably  baulked  by  some  unseen  im- 
pediment. "  It's  worser  the  day's  gittin,"  she 
remarked.  "  There's  young  Pat  Ryan  goin'  down 
the  bog,  and  a  blast's  narcly.riz  him  off  his  fccL" 


A   li'ET  DAY.  95 

Then  she  said  :  "  God  save  you,  Mrs.  M'Gurk  ; 
you're  abroad  in  great  auld  polthers.  Stand  in 
wid  yourself,  ma'am,  out  o'  the  win*." 

"  It's  not  too  bad  between  the  showers,"  said  the 
widow  M'Gurk,  standing  in,  "  and  I  was  after 
slippin'  down  to  Mrs.  Sheridan's  wid  the  pig's 
bucket " — this  was,  strictly  speaking,  an  old  hot- 
water  can.  "  Eh,  Brian,  man  alive,  how's  your- 
self? It's  quare  weather  we're  gittin'  ;  what  d'you 
say  to  it  at  all  ?  Did  you  happin  to  notice 
Hughey  Ouiglcy's  oats  this  mornin'  ?  They're 
just  a  livin'  wisp  o'  disthruction.  You  might  as 
well  think  to  be  puttin'  a  rapin-hook  into  the 
ravels  of  an  ould  rag  mat.  And  it  doin'  so  finely 
until  the  rain  got  lambastin'  it." 

"  Ay  bedeid,  and  himself  as  sot  up  wid  it  as 
could  be  conceived,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle ;  "and 
small  blame  to  him,  poor  man,  for  'twas  lookin' 
lovely,  that  smooth  and  greeny." 

"It's  the  sort  of  colour  one  might  fancy  a  linin' 
of  to  one's  eyes,"  said  Mrs.  Brian,  rubbing  her 
own,  which  the  turf-smoke  made  smart. 

"  'Twas  a  dacintish  little  strip,"  Brian  said,  "  but 
sure  the  man  was  a  great  fool  to  go  plant  the  like. 
He  might  ha'  known  'twould  merely  be  disthroyed 
on  him.  There's  nothin'  to  aquil  the  win'  and 
the  wet  for  devastatin'  all  before  them,  when  they 
get  coUoguin'  together." 


96  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

"  I'm  sure  I  dunno  what  pHsure  Anybody,"  said 
Mrs.  M'Gurk,  secretly  attaching  a  definite  idea  to 
her  indefinite  pronoun,  "can  take  in  ruinatin'  a 
poor  person's  bit  o'  property.  If  I  was  one,  now, 
that  had  the  mindin'  of  such  things,  and  took 
notice  of  a  Httle  green  field  sittin'  in  the  black 
o'  the  bog,  it's  apter  I'd  be  to  let  it  have  its 
chanst,  at  any  rate,  to  ripen  itself  the  best  way 
it  could,  than  go  for  to  sluice  the  great  dowses 
of  rain  on  top  of  it,  and  lave  it  all  battered  and 
bet  into  flittherjigs  like  yon." 

"  'Deed  then,  it's  a  pity  to  behould,  so  it  is,"  said 
Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  "  and  as  for  plisure,  I  see  no  signs  of 
plisure  in  it  for  anybody  good  or  bad.  It's  liker  a 
sort  of  accident  to  my  notion.  Such  a  thing  might 
happen  ready  enough,  if  you  come  to  considher 
the  power  o'  wet  there  does  be  streclin'  about 
promiscuous  over  our  heads.  Sure  them  that 
has  the  conthroulin'  of  it  might  aisy  slop  down 
a  sup  too  much  of  it  on  some  little  place  widout 
any  harrum'  intendin',  the  same  as  you  might  be 
after  doin'  yourself  when  you're  fillin'  a  weeny 
jug  out  of  a  big  can.  I  wouldn't  wonder  now  if 
that  was  the  way  of  it :  just  an  accident  like,  and 
no  thoughts  of  ruinatin'  anythin'.  " 

"  It  maybe  might  be,"  .said  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  staring 
ruefully  through  the  thick-quivering  strands  of 
rain,  and  apparently  not   much  consoled  by  Mrs. 


A   IVET  DAY.  97 

Kilfoylc's  teleology.  "  But  bedad  'twouid  make  a 
great  differ  to  the  likes  of  us,  if  they'd  be  a  trifle 
more  exact." 

"  I  dunno,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle.  "  I'm  none  so 
sure  it  mightn't  give  one  the  idee  that  they  had 
set  their  minds  to  managin'  such-like  consarns  for 
us  because  it  was  the  on'y  thing  for  us  they  could 
be  doin'  at  all.  And  that  'ud  be  a.  poor  case. 
I'd  a  dale  liefer  think  they  were  took  up  wid 
conthrivin'  us  somethin'  better.  Och,  woman  dear, 
if  you  had  the  grandest  crops  that  ever  grew,  they 
wouldn't  hinder  you  takin'  thought  of  them  you'll 
see  goin'  about  your  fields  no  more  while  you're 
left  in  this  world." 

"  Bedad  no,"  said  the  widow  M'Gurk. 

"  I'd  chance  it,"  said  poor  Mrs.  Brian,  whose 
children  were  all  alive,  and  if  possible  to  be  kept 
so. 

"  D'ye  see  that  there  ?  "  Brian  said,  crooking  his 
thumb  at  a  place  where  the  rain  had  bored  a  new 
passage  through  the  straw  and  scraws,  and  was 
ticking  down  rhythmically  in  large  slow  sooty 
drops,  like  a  self-constituted  clepsydra ;  "  it's  my 
belief  the  whole  countryside's  settled  under  a 
dhrip,  the  same  as  that  bit  o'  flure,  so  there's  no 
sinse  in  findin'  fau't  wid  any  one  for  not  keepin' 
it  dhiy."  Brian  looked  cheered  up  by  his  little 
conceit,  but  the  three  women  gazed  rather  blankly 

8 


93  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

at  the  plashing  drop,  as  if  they  had  been  referred 
to,  and  were  studying,  a  difficult  solution  of  the 
problem. 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  summons  from 
without,  as  peremptory-sounding  as  a  sudden 
clatter  of  hail  on  your  window-pane  :  "  Mrs, 
Brian — Mrs.  Brian — Mrs.  Brian,  ma'am."  Mrs. 
Quigley,  who  lived  nearly  opposite  to  the  Kil- 
foyles,  was  calling  from  over  the  wet  way,  very 
audibly  exasperated.  "  I'll  throuble  you,  ma'am,' 
to  speak  to  your  Tim  there.  He's  just  after 
slappin'  a  big  sod  o'  turf  over  the  dyke  into 
the  middle  of  me  chuckens,  that  went  as  nare 
doin'  slaughther  on  the  half  of  them  as  ever  I 
saw.  The  crathurs  were  that  terrified,  I  give  you 
me  word  they  lep  up  ten  fut  standin'  off  of  the 
ground." 

Chuckens  are  in  Lisconnel  an  occasionally 
convenient  cause  of  war,  hostilities  being  sometimes 
commenced  by  an  ostentatious  sweeping  out  at 
your  door  of  a  neighbour's  vagrant  brood,  which, 
when  things  were  on  a  peace  establishment,  would 
have  pervaded  the  mud-floor  and  pecked  futilely 
for  worms  among  the  turf-sods  unforbidden. 

The  nine  white  fluff-balls  which  represented 
Mrs.  Quigley's  chuckens,  had,  however,  recovered 
from  their  alarm  and  phenomenal  acrobatic 
exertions,  and  were  bobbing  about   on   the   black 


A   WET  DAY.  99 

mould  under  the  feet  of  a  high-stepping  fatuously 
solemn  fawn-coloured  hen. 

"Tim,"  quoth  Mrs.  Brian  to  a  cluster  of  huddled- 
together  heads,  which  were  designing  broken- 
crockery  works  among  the  puddles  at  a  short 
distance,  "  you'll  sup  sorrow  wid  a  spoon  of  grief 
if  I  hear  of  your  doin'  anythin'  agin  to  Mrs. 
Quigley's  chuckens." 

And  therewith  the  incident  would  have  ter- 
minated amicably,  Tim  being  happily  indifferent 
to  the  prospect  of  that  often  threatened  repast, 
had  not  Mrs.  Quigley's  still  vibrating  wrath  moved 
her  to  say,  addressing  nobody  in  particular  : 
"  Begob,  it's  a  quare  way  some  people  has  of 
bringin'  up  their  childer  to  be  mischievous  little 
pests,  whatever  they  get  to  mcddlin'  wid." 

Of  course  such  a  pointed  thrust  had  to  be 
parried,  so  Mrs.  Brian  at  once  bawled  with  very 
distinct  enunciation:  "Tim,  Tim,  come  in  out  of 
that,  there's  a  good  boy,  and  bring  Norah  and 
Biddy  along  wid  you.  Yoiive  got  dacint  rags  of 
clothes  on  you  to  be  spoilt  vv^id  the  wet,  not  the 
scandeelious  ould  scarecrow  dudeens  that  some 
I  could  name  think  good  enough  to  be  makin' 
shows  of  their  childer  in." 

I  doubt  myself  but  that  an  unbiassed  judge 
would  have  pronounced  the  respective  wardrobes 
of  the  young  Quiglcys  and  young  Kilfoylcs  to  be 


loo  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

much  on  a  par ;  however,  Mrs.  Quigle}'-  took  the 
observation  as  it  was  meant,  and  rejoined  :  "  Well, 
then,  it's  lucky  for  them  if  they've  got  anjthin' 
dacint  about  them  at  all ;  for  what  else  they're 
like  to  be  gettin'  where  they  come  from  excipt 
ignorince  and  impidence  is  more  than  I  can  say." 

The  rising  up  of  a  quarrel  in  Lisconnel  is  often 
as  abrupt  as  the  descent  of  a  squall  on  a  mountain 
lake ;  so  it  was  quite  in  the  nature  of  such  things 
that  Mrs.  Brian's  next  retort  should  be  uncom- 
promising in  tone  :  "  Och,  and  is  it  talkin'  you  are 
of  ignorince  and  imperince?  Be  the  piper,  if  it 
was  that  sort  I  was  a-wantin',  I'd  know  right  well 
were  to  go  look  for  them,  so  long  as  there  was  one 
of  the  Quigleys  anywheres  around." 

Then  Mrs.  Quigley  said  :  "  It's  not  throublin'  me- 
self  I  am  to  be  answerin'  the  likes  of  yous."  And 
Mrs.  M'Gurk  said :  "  Maybe  if  you'd  the  sinse, 
you'd  be  plased  to  git  the  chanst  of  spakin'  to 
respectable  people."  And  Mrs.  Quigley  said : 
"  Respectable  how  are  you  ?  "  a  phrase  fraught  in 
Lisconnel  with  the  most  blighting  sarcasm,  and 
added  that  it  would  be  a  thankful  mercy  if  some 
ould  women  could  lave  interfarin'  in  other  people's 
consarns  alone.  And  then  Mrs.  M'Gurk  and  Mrs, 
Brian  simultaneously  requested  one  another  to 
listen  to  the  fine  gabbin'  she  was  havin'  out  of  her 
that  day.     As  for  old  little  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  who  loved 


A   WET  DA  i".  loi 

peace,  and  whose  frail  thread  of  voice  could  not,  in 
any  case,  have  availed  much  in  an  engagement 
carried  on  at  so  long  a  range,  she  only  clacked 
softly  to  herself  like  a  discomfited  blackbird,  and 
ever  and  anon  admonished  her  friends  to  come  in 
wid  themselves  and  never  mind  argufying ;  while 
her  son  Brian,  sitting  serenely  aloof  from  the  fray, 
intimated  to  her  by  knowing  winks  and  grimaces 
his  masculine  disdain  for  such  a  strife  of  tongues, 
in  which,  however,  he  was  agreeably  aware  that  his 
wife  could  efficiently  uphold  the  family  cause. 

The  road  at  this  place  is  of  considerable  width, 
broad  enough  to  accommodate  across  it  a  system 
of  five  or  six  puddles  of  ample  size,  and  the  wind 
ruffling  straight  down  it,  although  like  an  honest 
umpire  inclining  to  neither  belligerent,  did  whisk 
away  the  point  of  some  scathingly  hurled  epigrams, 
in  a  manner  which  helped  to  discourage  both 
parties.  Mrs.  Ouigley  had,  on  the  whole,  the  worst 
of  it,  which  was  no  disgrace  to  her,  seeing  that  she 
had  been  obliged  to  quit  the  shelter  of  her  eaves  in 
order  to  come  within  screeching  distance,  and  had, 
moreover,  fought  single-handed,  since  "  Himself," 
although  at  home,  remained  supinely  indoors,  and 
only  gave  her  the  meagre  moral  support  derivable 
from  fitful  muffled  bellows,  which  might  have 
meant  almost  anj-thing.  But  the  sharpness  of  the 
contention    may    be    inferred    from    the    fact    that 


102  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

\\hen,  routed  ostensibly  by  a  heavier  downpour, 
she  scuttered  off  towards  her  dwelHng,  the  last 
utterance  which  she  gave  to  the  wet  winds  was  : 
May  the  divil  sail  away  wid  the  half  of  yous ; " 
and  that  the  next  blast  bore,  rather  beyond  its 
mark,  the  antiphonal  response:  "And  may  he  sail 
away  widj*?//,  too,  ma'am." 

Lisconnel  soaked  on  undisturbed  and  unen- 
livened for  some  time  after  this,  but  it  was  destined 
to  have  two  more  sensations  before  the  day  finally, 
closed  in.  The  sun  had  imperceptibly  sunk,  and  it 
was  raining  harder  than  ever,  "  most  ungovernably," 
Hughey  Quigley  said,  when  all  at  once  something 
hajipened  in  the  western  sky.  It  was  as  if  some 
vast  tent-rope  had  suddenly  been  snapped,  for  the 
dark  riftless  cloud-canopy  seemed  not  so  much  to 
abruptly  rise  as  to  actually  recoil  back  with  a  suing 
up  from  the  horizon's  verge,  and  ere  one  had  well 
realised  that  it  had  begun  to  lift,  it  was  flying 
eastward,  scudding  in  festoons  and  trails  and  shreds, 
or  furled  into  rumpled  bundles  in  the  grip  of  the 
careering  blasts.  It  left  behind  it  spaces  of  marvel- 
lously limpid  lough-blue  and  sea-green,  just  deep 
enough  for  the  present  to  drown  out  the  stars  ;  and 
low  along  the  dusky  purple  earth-rim  the  sun's 
fiery  wake  was  still  traced  through  a  haze  as  of 
amber-seething  foam.  Reflections  of  this  were 
caught  glimmeringly  in  shallow  pools,  or  on  the  wet 


A   WET  DAY.  105 

faces  of  rocks,  superseding  the  twilight  with  a  dim 
golden  radiance,  which  stole  over  the  landscape 
like  the  fitting  sequel  to  a  gorgeous  sundown. 
Five  minutes  after  the  first  rent  in  the  clouds,  Lis- 
connel  looked  as  if  it  had  been  basking  all  day 
under  the  beams  of  a  stainless  heaven,  and  might 
count  upon  spending  the  morrow  in  the  same 
fashion.  These  rapid  transformations  are  not  of 
rare  occurrence  here  among  wide  levels  and  open 
sky-reaches,  where  the  wild  west  wind  is  a  very 
deft  scene-shifter  ;  however,  so  little  else  does 
happen,  and  so  much  generally  depends  upon  the 
weather,  that  their  repetition  seldom  falls  flat. 
Now  everybody  looked  out  interestedly,  and  said 
that  the  evening  seemed  holding  up  a  bit ;  and 
thus  it  chanced  that  several  persons  descriea  Ody 
Rafferty,  ass,  and  comrade,  returning  sooner  than 
had  been  expected,  and  by  an  unusual  route,  across 
the  bog. 

Ody  Rafferty  is  a  man  of  whom  his  acquaint- 
ances say:  "  Och,  bedad,  it's  himselfs  the  ould 
boys  that's  in  it."  Their  tone  when  thus  summing 
up  hi;>  character  is  half  self-congratulatory  and  half 
envious,  as  if  they  felt  that  the  ability  to  duly 
appreciate  the  extreme  wiliness  of  him  was  in  itself 
something — as  much,  perhaps,  as  they  could  law- 
fully wish — and  yet  did  leave  them  something  un- 
attainable to  desire.     I  am  not  aware  that  he  has 


I04  IRISH  ID  Yi^LS. 

ever  performed  any  feat  remarkable  enough  to  justify 
their  excessively  high  opinion  of  his  shrewdne:5s, 
and  I  fancy  that  his  reputation  is  one  of  those 
which  are  secure  against  overthrow  because  they 
rest  upon  nothing  in  particular. 

He  lived  at  this  time  in  the  cabin  which  stands 
back  from  the  road  near  the  O'Driscolls'  ruins,  and 
he  had  lately  become  the  owner  of  a  small  turf- 
coloured  ass,  rather  to  the  disgust  of  some  neigh- 
bours, who  found  her  energetic  grazing  trench  upon 
the  limited  browsing-grounds  of  their  goats.  Their 
dissatisfaction,  however,  was  abated  by  the  know- 
ledge of  the  uses  for  which  he  kept  the  beast,  no 
secret  at  Lisconnel,  though  etiquette  prescribed  its 
treatment  as  such.  That  knowledge  made  every- 
body eager  to  learn  why  he  had  brought  his  load  of 
turf  round  by  the  back  of  the  ridge,  instead  of 
straight  across  the  strip  between  it  and  the  road ;  but 
Ody  did  not  choose  to  satisfy  their  curiosity.  He 
had  in  truth  made  the  detour  for  reasons  which  he 
could  have  no  possible  object  in  concealing,  but,  as 
if  his  redundant  guile  sought  for  supererogatory 
works,  he  enveloped  the  fact  in  a  veil  of  mystery, 
which  by  satyr-like  leers  and  grins  he  admonished 
his  companions,  Tom  Ryan  and  young  O'Beirne, 
not  to  lift.  He  himself  set  them  the  example  of 
baffling  inquiries  with  the  evasive  answers  fashion- 
able among  us,  such  as  :  "  Och,  that's  the  chat  now," 


A    WET  DAY.  105 

or  "Tliere's  where  the  night  fell  on  ycu,"  or  "  Be- 
gob,  if  you  knew  that  and  had  your  supper,  you 
might  go  to  bed." 

This  reticent  attitude  he  maintained  inexorably 
all  the  way  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  for  they  were 
only  passing  through  Lisconnel,  their  destination 
being  Dan  O'Beirne's,  near  Duffclane ;  and  if  I 
know  Ody,  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  his  progress,  as 
he  stumped  along  beside  his  meek  Jinny,  saying 
blandly,  "  Git  on,  ould  woman,  we  must  be  steppin' 
it,"  whenever  his  escorting  friends  waxed  particu- 
larly urgent  and  eager  in  their  questioning.  But 
when  the  knockawn  lay  behind  them,  and  the 
neighbours  had  dropped  off  discontentedly,  he 
called  his  sons  Paddy  and  Luke,  who  were  still 
following,  and  bade  them  run  home  and  bid  their 
mother  to  be  looking  out  for  him  about  noon  the 
next  day.  "  And  yous  may  tell  her,  lads,"  he  added, 
"  that  if  we  hadn't  went  round  back  of  the  risin' 
ground,  we'd  ha'  got  bogged  up  to  the  neck  \\\d 
the  swamps  there  do  be  all  about  where  the 
sthrame's  after  over-flowin'  itself  And  look-a 
Paddy,  if  you've  the  wit,  you  might  be  tellin'  her 
that  the  raison  we  come  home  to-day  instead  of 
to-morra  was  because  themselves  over  beyant  had 
took  a  notion  they'd  a  chanst  of  rcsaivin'  company 
prisently,  and  were  wisliful  to  git  the  place  readied 
up  and  clared  out  in  a  manner  beforehand.     Sure 


io6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

one  must  humour  the  women  a  bit,"  he  explained 
to  Tom  and  young  O'Beirne.  "  The  wife  'ud  be  as 
onaisy  as  an  ould  hin  on  a  hot  griddle  all  the  while 
I  was  gone,  if  she  didn't  think  she  knew  the  rights 
of  it." 

"  Me  sister-in-law  was  rael  mad  that  I  wouldn't 
be  tellin'  her,"  Tom  Ryan  said  complacently — "  Icp- 
pin'  she  was." 

"  Let  her  lep,"  said  Ody. 


CHAPTEK  V. 

GOT   THE   BETTER   OF. 

It  seems  advisable  to  explain  without  further 
delay  the  nature  of  Ody  Rafferty's  calling,  lest 
some  hints  which  have  been  dropped  should  mis- 
lead you  into  supposing  Lisconnel  implicated  in 
transactions  more  nefarious  than  is  really  the  case 
Nor  could  I  otherwise  fulfil  a  half-promise  to  relate 
what  became  of  his  ass  Jinny.  The  truth,  briefly 
stated,  is  that  he  employed  her  in  conveying 
earthenware  jars  of  potheen  from  a  certain  wholly 
illicit  still  off  away  in  the  bog  to  O'Beirne  the 
blacksmith's  forge  near  Duffclane,  an  establishment 
which  I  fear  must  be  described  as  little  better  than 
a  shebeen.  Happily  it  is  not  necessary  for  me,  in 
a  plain  narrative  of  facts,  to  pass  judgment  upon 
Ody's  actions,  or  to  inquire  whether  it  be  an  ex- 
tenuating or  an  aggravating  circumstance  that  he 
committed  them  more  for  the  pleasure  of  the  in- 

cid'^ntal    excitement,    than     for   the    sake   of    any 

107 


io8  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

pecuniary  profits  thence  accruing,  which  were 
indeed  very  small.  For  although  this  still,  which 
I  believe  continues  to  prosper,  turns  out  many 
gallons  of  the  rael  crathur,  few  of  them  flow 
towards  Duftclane.  Most  of  them  go,  in  the  first 
instance,  on  board  quaint  little  ciirragJis  and  pook- 
aw7iSy  stationed  in  sundry  creeks  and  inlets,  and 
thus  arrive  at  various  villages  along  the  nook- 
shotten  coast,  as  far  as  to  Kenport  itself  Ody's 
carrying  trade  was  therefore  done  on  a  limited 
scale,  and  sometimes  hardly  made  good  the  expense 
of  Jinny's  keep,  if  he  had  regarded  the  matter  from 
a  purely  business  point  of  view.  But  he  valued  it 
chiefly  as  a  congenial  pursuit  giving  scope  to  his 
acknowledged  cuteness  and  a  stirring  spirit  of 
enterprise,  which  made  more  everyday  avocations 
irksome  to  him.  His  long  family  supplied  much 
more  labour  than  was  needed  for  the  cultivation  of 
his  bit  o'  land  and  the  cutting  of  his  turf;  and 
albeit  he  entertained  but  an  humble  opinion  of  its 
members'  intelligence,  he  willingly  entrusted  them 
with  the  execution  of  those  humdrum  tasks,  and 
gave  himself  to  higher  things.  He  found  all  the 
details  of  the  undertaking  more  or  less  enjoyable. 
Each  successfully  accomplished  transit  of  the  wild 
bug-tract  was  for  him  pervaded  with  a  flattering 
sense  of  having  "  got  the  better  of  "  somebody — . 
a  thing  he  loved  to  do— and  each  arrival,  mostly  in 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  109 

the  moth-coloured  dusk,  at  the  black  mouth  of  Dan 
O'Beirne's  scarlet-hearted  forge  was  a  triumphant 
moment  to  be  anticipated  from  afar. 

The  way  he  went  is  long  and  monotonous 
enough  to  need  some  such  inward  enlivening.  I 
have  never  ascertained  the  site  of  the  still  with  any 
accuracy,  just  knowing  vaguely  that  to  get  there 
you  strike  out  into  the  bog  northward  from  Lis- 
connel,  and  proceed  until  its  surface  begins  to 
heave  and  fall  in  undulations  which  fore-run  the 
mountainous  coast-line.  Even  much  minuter 
directions  would  scarcely  guide  one  to  the  intri- 
cately situated  shieling,  which  doubtless  seems  the 
innocent  turf-bank,  and  only  by  a  faint  puff  of  blue 
smoke  betrays  the  worm  beneath.  But  it  must  be 
a  full  day's  journey  distant,  when  that  journey  is 
measured  by  the  gingerly  steps  of  a  little  ass  ;  and 
to  spend  a  whole  day  in  profitably  breaking  the 
law  and  defiantly  defrauding  the  revenue  was 
worth  a  great  deal  of  trudging.  Ody  Rafferty  did 
not,  however,  run  by  any  means  so  many  risks  as 
might  have  been  expected  on  these  journeys,  nor 
were  his  strategical  abilities,  after  all,  put  into  much 
rc(|uisition.  1  his  is  clear  from  the  fact  that  for 
several  years  he  habitually  brought  his  potheen 
over  the  bog  and  along  the  Duffclane  road  under 
the  transparently  inartificial  pretence  of  convoying 
a  load  of  turf     Now,  no  rational    person    could 


1  lo  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

serivously  suppose  Dan  O'Beirne  in  the  least  likely 
to  send  a  matter  of  twenty  miles  for  the  fuel  which 
grew  at  his  door  ;  and  therefore  it  may  be  assumed 
that  anybody  who  was  taken  in  by  the  device,  was 
so  with  his  own  good  will.  Indeed,  except  for  the 
name  of  the  thing,  as  people  whispered  at  Lisconnel, 
Ody  might  almost  as  well  have  forborne  to  pile  up 
the  brown-fibred  sods  over  the  paler  drab  jars, 
whose  contents  any  one  who  chose  might  have 
heard  gurgling  as  they  were  joggled  along.  How- 
ever, the  omission  would  have  slightly  diminished 
his  own  gratification,  and  increased  the  embarrass- 
ments of  Sergeant  Boyd. 

The  truth  is  that  Duffclane  at  this  time  was,  con- 
stabularily  speaking,  under  the  charge  of  a  very 
portly  and  placid  King  Log.  Sergeant  Boyd  and 
the  four  or  five  subordinates  who  shared  with  him 
the  whitewashed  iron  police-hut  erected  on  the 
shore  of  the  little  rushy-ended  lough  near  the 
village,  were  as  unaggressive,  easy-going  a  set  of 
men  as  you  could  wish  to  see  patrolling  in  couples 
at  the  regulation  rate,  or,  more  commonly,  sitting, 
in  the  face  of  all  regulations  with  the  solace  of  a 
pipe,  on  some  wayside  bank  or  wall.  And,  as  such, 
they  found  in  Duffclane  quarters  greatly  to  their 
mind ;  so  much  so,  that  once  when  they  were 
accidentally  overlooked  by  the  authorities  at  the 
season  of  periodical  shiftings,  and  left  unremoved, 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  in 

they  entered  no  protest  against  the  blunder,  but 
stayed  on  unrepiningly  at  the  back  of  bcyant,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  all  parties  concerned. 

Easily  though  he  went,  however,  the  sergeant 
liked  a  little  conviviality  as  well  as  other  people, 
and  not  seldom  put  in  an  appearance  at  the  forge 
of  an  evening,  when  Dan  O'Beirne's  club  had 
gathered  about  his  glowing  flame-bank,  often  the 
most  cheering  feature  in  the  landscape  for  many  a 
mirky  mile  round.  On  these  occasions  nobody 
with  a  spark  of  honourable  feeling  beneath  his 
invisible-green  tunic  would  have  dreamed  of 
making  the  remotest  allusion  to  the  antecedents  of 
the  fragrant  amber-brown  "  dhrop"  which  was  sure 
to  be  forthcoming  in  a  thick-lipped  glass ;  and 
indeed  nothing  could  have  appeared  further  from 
Sergeant  Boyd's  wishes.  It  is  said  that  once  when 
Ody  Rafferty,  by  an  untoward  mishap,  let  a  full 
gallon  jar  slip  off  Jinny's  back  from  among  tiie 
deceptive  sods,  and  smasli  itself  on  a  stone,  actually 
splashing  the  sergeant's  boots  with  its  criminating 
contents,  the  sergeant  instantly  turned  and  .led 
away  down  the  road  at  the  double,  "  as  if  he  heard 
high  thrason,  and  blue  murdlier,  and  iveiy  sort  of 
divarsion  you  plase,  yellyhooin'  for  him  round  the 
corner."  But  I  cannot  certify  the  truth  of  this 
anecdote. 

Of  course  this  state  of  thing's  could  not  continue 


112  IRISH  WYLLo. 

indefinitely.  Burly  Sergeant  Boyd  departed  to 
another  station,  taking  with  him  the  character 
(unofficial)  of  a  dacint,  good-natured  man  ;  and  his 
successor  was  of  a  different  type.  Acting-Sergeant 
Clarke  had  an  aspiring  mind,  and  was  athirst  for 
distinction.  He  dreamed  sometimes  of  a  District- 
Inspectorship,  and  then  always  awoke  with  strong 
views  as  to  the  expediency  of  repressing  crime. 
Now  at  remote  little  Duffclane  the  one  field  which 
gives  any  promise  of  materials  for  a  creditable 
monthly  report  is  the  shebeening  by  Sergeant 
Boyd  so  wilfully  ignored.  Alert  and  experienced, 
the  new  officer  was  quick  to  grasp  the  fact,  and  to 
perceive  signs  that  the  unlawful  pursuit  had  long 
been  followed  in  the  district  on  a  somewhat 
extensive  scale,  and  with  an  audacity  fostered  by 
his  predecessor's  remissness,  if  not  connivance. 
Accordingly  he  lost  no  time  in  casting  about  for 
the  means  of  promptly  effecting  an  important 
seizure,  which  might  prove  a  short  cut  to  promo- 
tion. Thenceforth  in  imaginative  meditations  he 
continually  saw  himself  upsetting  tubs  of  seething 
wash,  confiscating  plant,  and  marching  disconcerted 
prisoners  over  the  bog  to  the  nearest  barracks. 
Tidings  of  this  regrettable  change  made  their  way 
in  due  course  to  Lisconnei.  But  Sergeant  Clarke 
knew  better  than  to  display  any  overt  activity,  and 
at  first  the  rumours  ran   dimly  to  the  effect  that 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  113 

"the  new  lot  down  below  at  the  polis-hut  were 
quare  ould  ones,  and  noways  to  be  depinded 
upon,"  The  resultant  danger  had  come,  as  wc 
shall  see,  very  close  indeed,  before  it  took  a  clearet 
shape. 

One  mackerel-skied  September  afternoon,  Ody 
Rafferty  halted  at  his  own  door  on  his  way  to 
O'Beirne's,  and  annoyed  his  wife  a  good  deal  by 
letting  Jinny  the  ass  drink  up  a  bucketful  of  water, 
which  she  had  just  fetched  from  a  neighbouring 
pool.  Ody  had  by  this  time  owned  Jinny  for 
nearly  three  years,  and  had  conceived  an  extra- 
ordinary high  opinion  of  her. 

"  I  declare  to  goodness  the  figurandyin'  you  have 
wid  that  baste,"  Mrs.  Rafferty  protested,  "bangs 
all.  Couldn't  you  as  well  ha'  been  givin'  her  a 
d brink  out  of  the  water  goin'  by  it,  instead  of 
settin'  her  to  gulp  up  the  sup  I  was  after  gettin'  to 
put  the  pitaties  in  ?  It's  disgustin'  to  see  you 
makin'  a  fool  of  her  as  if  she  was  a  human 
crathur."  Ody,  indeed,  had  a  habit  of  disadvan- 
tageously  contrasting  his  family's  faculties,  mental 
and  moral,  with  those  of  Jinny,  which  perhaps 
added  a  tang  of  bitterness  to  his  wife's  tone.  He 
now  said  :  "  Be  the  hokey,  it's  herself  has  more 
gumption  and  compcrhinsion  in  her  than  the  half 
of  yous  all  rowled  together.  She's  not  the  fool,  any- 
way, to  be  dhrinkin"  out  o'  wather-pools  thick  wid 

9 


114  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

them  black  wather-asks,  that  'ud  lep  down  your 
thr(;ath  as  soon  as  look  at  you — and  that's  what 
Mary^anne  and  Jim  and  the  rest  of  them's  after  this 
minyit — I  noticed  them  coming  along."  This,  as 
Ody  may  have  expected,  sent  his  wife  speeding  off 
t.:  (irag  away  the  children  from  those  reptilian 
perils,  and  he  continued  :  "  Molly  there,  stir  your 
stumps,  and  run  to  be  pullin'  her  a  few  wisps  of  the 
long  grass  under  the  dyke,  afore  we're  jiggin'  on 
agin." 

But  Molly  did  not  run.  For  at  this  moment 
Paddy,  a  younger  brother,  bolted  in  among  them 
with  awful  tidings.  The  new  sergeant  and  a  pair 
of  strange  constables  were  about  a  couple  of  miles 
down  the  Duffclane  road,  hiding  out  of  sight 
behind  some  furze-bushes  and  clumps  of  broom, 
to  wait  for  some  people  and  an  ass  coming  by. 
Paddy  had  slipped  near  them  unbeknownst,  and 
had  gathered  this  much  from  their  discourse  ; 
whereupon,  being,  despite  his  father's  disparage- 
ments, not  devoid  of  mother-wit,  he  had  skyted 
home  at  full  speed  to  intercept  and  warn  the 
destined  victims  of  the  ambuscade. 

Ody  was  very  loth  to  accept  this  sinister  report, 
partly  because  it  augured  so  ill  for  the  future  pros- 
pects of  his  trade,  and  partly  because,  if  it  were 
true,  he  had  been  saved  from  a  snare  by  a  person 
.  of  mental  gifts  far  inferior  to  his  own,  which  to 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  I15 

some  minds  is  ever  a  harrowing  admission,  not  to 
be  smoothed  over  by  any  applications  of  the  Lion 
and  the  Mouse — an  apologue  with  which  Ody, 
however,  was  not  probably  acquainted.  He  sought 
consequently  to  postpone  the  evil  moment  of  con- 
viction by  pronouncing  Paddy's  story  not  only 
incredible,  but  incomprehensible,  and  continued  to 
asseverate  with  heat  that  he'd  divil  a  bit  of  a 
notion  what  the  bosthoon  was  blatherin'  there 
about,  until  his  wife,  his  daughter,  Tom  Ryan,  and 
Mrs.  M'Gurk  had  each  severally  rehearsed  the 
statement  to  him,  succinctly  and  clearly  enough  to 
preclude  further  persistence  in  that  subterfuge. 

"  Och,  well  then,"  he  said  at  last,  reluctantly 
and  tacitly  abandoning  his  sceptical  attitude,  "what 
did  you  say  them  chaps  were  exactually  doin'  the 
time  you  come  away  } " 

"  A-sittin'  in  a  hape  under  the  hollow  o'  the 
bank,"  quoth  Paddy,  "passin'  the  remark  that  them 
lads  might  be  comin'  along  any  time  now.  The 
fat-faced  one  did  be  slippin'  two  sixpenny-bits  and 
a  shillin'  in  and  out  of  his  pocket,  and  him  wid  the 
black  whislicrs  had  somcthin'  aitin' — cheese  it  might 
be.  But  just  the  last  thing,  the  sergeant  he  ups 
and  cocks  his  chin  agin'  the  top-edge  of  the  bank, 
and  was  squintin'  through  the  furze-bush  with  the 
little  eyes  of  him  like  an  ould  ferret ;  and  sez  he, 
*  We've  a  grand  view  down  a  sthretch  of  the  road 


ii6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

from  this,  so  as  we  can  stip  over  convanicnt  and 
stop  them  afore  they  know  where  they've  got  to. 
And  manewhile,'  sez  he,  wid  a  great  dirty  grin  on 
his  face,  '  we're  as  agreeable  here  as  need  be,  and 
not  cramped  up  the  way  we  was  that  time  at  the 
bridge,'  sez  he.  So  I  legged  it  off  wid  meself,  and 
there  I  left  them — divil  sweep  them  all." 

"  I'd  love  to  be  throwin'  stones  and  clay  at 
them,"  said  Molly  Rafferty,  meditatively. 

"  Begorrah  then,  I'll  be  very  apt  to  be  givin' 
them  a  clout  on  the  head,  if  they  thry  interfarin^ 
wid  w^,"  said  Tom  Ryan,  who  was  Ody  Rafferty's 
confederate  on  this  day's  expedition. 

The  sentiment  was  approved  by  all  the  gossoons 
of  any  size — and  some  of  extremely  little — who 
were  within  hearing.  Many  of  them  capered  and 
said,"Hurrooh — toyour  sowls!"  and  others  plucked 
Tom's  ragged  sleeves,  saying  in  hoarse  whispers, 
"  Let's  come  along  then — ah,  do  now  ! "  The 
cropped  heads  rapidly  sorted  themselves  from  the 
shawled  ones,  and  converged  as  if  something  drew 
them  towards  a  centre,  while  the  women  and  girls 
began  to  stand  round  with  open  mouths  and  eyes. 
In  short,  Lisconnel  got  up  the  symptoms  of  a 
miniature  rising  with  a  creditable  celerity,  consider- 
ing that  nearly  all  its  able-bodied  men  were  away 
harvesting  down  below.  A  person  who  still  wore 
petticoats,  and    was  not  yet  fully  five  years  old, 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  117 

might  have  been  heard  to  remark  with  confidence, 
"  Sure,  we'll  dhrive  the  pack  of  them  before  us  "  ; 
but  Ody  Rafferty  was  of  an  age  to  recognise  all 
this  as  wildness. 

"  Och  !  git  along  wid  you,  Tom,"  he  said,  '  and 
whisht  talkin'  foolish  about  cloutin'  the  polls.  It's 
no  thing  to  go  do,  onless  you're  put  to  it  entirely. 
We'll  git  the  better  of  thim  yit,  one  way  or  the 
other,  but  it  won't  be  by  walkin'  sthraight  down 
their  thrcachcrous  throaths,  which  is  what  they're 
intindin'.  I'll  just  be  unloadin'  me  sods  and  things 
ofT  of  the  poor  ass,  and  let  her  git  her  bit  o'  grazin' 
in  paice.  She'll  go  no  further  this  evenin' — the 
back  o'  me  hand  to  the  lot  o'  them.  The  boys 
below  'ill  have  to  do  widout  their  dhrop  to-night, 
if  they're  depindin'  on  me.  .  .  .  One  of  yous  just 
run  up  the  hill,"  he  commanded,  when  Jinny  was 
nearly  unladen,  "  and  be  keepin'  a  look-out  down 
the  road,  for  'fraid  them  thieves  of  mischief  might 
happen  to  come  slingein'  in  on  top  of  us.  And 
then  I'll  take  and  slip  me  couple  of  jars  in  among 
the  growth  of  rooshes  under  the  edge — Och !  no, 
you  great  gomeral,  not  there,  to  be  starin'  out,  you 
may  say,  at  every  one  goin'  the  road — the  edge  of 
the  hole  over  there  alongside  of  the  big  stack.  It's 
none  too  deep,  and  they'll  lie  there  handy  till  we 
git  another  chanst.  Lave  liftin'  them,  Biddy ; 
don't  any  of  yous  be  meddlin'  wid  them  at  all. 


1X8  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Musha,  long  life  to  th'  ould  sergeant ;  I  hope  he'll 
git  his  health  this  night  till  he  sees  us  comin'  by  ! " 
It  was  Stacey  Doyne  who  hindered  the  carrying 
out  of  these  prudent  plans.  While  the  whiskey- 
jars  were  still  lying  at  the  Rafifertys'  door,  she  ran 
up  in  great  dismay.  Lisconnel  had  gone  through 
a  season  of  sickness,  the  early  summer  fasts  having 
been  followed  by  an  outbreak  of  fever,  from  an 
attack  of  which  Stacey 's  mother  was  recovering. 
But  she  remained  very  low  and  feeble,  and  this 
evening  had  been  "  taking  wakenesses  "  in  a  man- 
ner which  frightened  her  daughter  out  of  her  wits. 
'*  I  dunno  what  to  be  at  wid  her,"  said  Stacey, 
"  she's  that  wake  like,  and  never  a  bit  of  a  thing 
can  I  persuade  her  to  touch,  I've  tried  her  wid 
the  sup  o'  milk  Mrs.  M'Gurk  gave  me,  and  a  drink 
of  fresh  water,  and  a  wee  taste  of  a  maley  pitaty — 
and  that's  all  I  have  ;  but  she  won't  so  much  as 
look  at  them.  I'm  afeard  she's  rael  bad ;  and  the 
lads  away  on  us  down  below.  So  when  I  saw  all 
of  yous  up  here,  I  just  took  a  run  out  to  tell  you 
the  way  she  was,"  Stacey  was  so  miserably 
anxious  and  scared,  that  all  the  lines  which  would 
be  fixed  on  her  face  a  dozen  years  hence  came  out, 
as  invisible  writing  does  at  a  flame,  and  made  its 
youth  haggard.  All  her  neighbours  commiserated, 
and  said,  "  Ah,  the  crathur  !  " — but  Ody  Rafferty 
had  something  more  practical  to  offer. 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  119 

•*  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  he  said,  taking  up  one 
of  the  jars  ;  "  it's  a  sup  of  this  your  mother  wants, 
and  a  sup  of  this  she'll  git.  Norah,  woman,  run  in 
and  fetch  th'ould  cork-screwer  out  of  the  press, 
und  bring  a  mug  or  somethin*  along.  .  .  .  You'll 
just  make  her  swally  a  good  dhrop  of  that,  Stacey, 
like  it  or  no,  and  you'll  soon  see  she'll  be  the  better 
for  it.  Och,  bedad,  it's  not  a  right  Irishwoman 
she'd  be  if  she  a- wouldn't.  Look,  now,  at  the 
colour  of  that  ;  there's  an  eye  of  the  sun  glamin' 
through  it.  She'll  feel  herself  able  enough  for  her 
bit  of  hot  pitaty  wunst  you've  heartened  her  up 
that  way — aitin'  all  before  her  she'll  be ;  and  the 
next  thing  we  hare  tell  of  her,  she'll  be  dancin'  jigs 
like  a  three-year-old.  Musha,  sure  the  strongest 
person  iver  stepped  will  be  takin'  a  bad  turn  now 
and  agin.  Just  run  away  home  wid  it  to  her, 
Stacey,  jewel,  and  don't  be  frettin'  yourself,  for 
there's  no  fear  but  she'll  over  it  finely  in  next  to  no 
time,  piase  the  Lord." 

"  God  reward  you,  Ody  Rafiferty,"  said  Stacey, 
with  the  fervent  gratitude  which  we  feel  towards 
any  one  who  loosens  the  grip  on  us  of  a  torturing 
fear ;  for  she  was  as  much  reassured  by  his  flow  of 
<;loquence  as  by  the  possession  of  the  purple- 
speckled  delft  pint-mug,  tucked  away  carefully 
under  a  corner  of  her  shawl.  "  May  the  blcssin'  of 
Heaven  above  shine  on  you  !    Faith,  it's  prayin'  for 


I20  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

you  all  I'll  be  to  the  last  day  of  me  life,  it  '.t  does 
her  a  benefit." 

Then  Stacey  hurried  home ;  and  as  most  of  the 
neighbours  went  off  with  her  to  superintend  the 
administration  of  Ody's  remedy,  or  to  prescribe 
others  of  their  own,  there  was  no  visible  reason 
why  he  should  not  have  proceeded  to  fulfil  his 
intentions  respecting  the  jars  of  potheen.  Reasons, 
indeed,  were  perhaps  afloat  on  the  air  in  the  form 
of  microscope-baffling  particles  ;  but  whether  or 
no,  what  followed  certainly  tends  to  confirm  the 
truth  of  a  saying  we  have  at  Lisconnel :  that  it's 
a  dale  aisier  to  draw  the  cork  out  of  a  full  bottle  of 
whiskey  than  to  put  it  in  agin. 

"  Tom,"  said  Ody,  as  the  patter  of  the  bare 
feet  died  away,  and  nothing  was  heard  save  the 
rhythmical  munches  of  Jinny  browsing  between 
the  furze-bushes,  "  we'd  find  somethin'  handier  for 
taking  a  sup  out  of,  if  we  stepped  inside." 

When,  some  three-quarters  of  an  hour  later,  Mrs. 
Rafferty  came  home  with  the  report  that  Mrs.  Doyne 
was  finding  herself  a  good  trifle  stronger,  she  at 
once  perceived  what  had  taken  place.  Tom  Ryan, 
a  weak-headed  youth,  was  far  past  making  any 
pretence  of  keeping  up  appearances.  He  simply 
sat  leaning  against  the  wall  near  the  door,  and 
hardly  woke  up  sufficiently  to  say,  between  violent 
nods,  "  Aw — w'haw  ?  "  when  addressed  sarcastically 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  121 

as  "  An  iligant  spicimin,  sittin'  there  lookin'  about 
as  sinsible  as  an  ould  blind  cow  caught  in  a  shower 
o'  hail."  Ody,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  even  more 
wide-awake  and  sententious  than  usual.  Yet  his 
wife,  who  knew  his  ways,  viewed  him  with  sus- 
picions which  proved  not  unfounded.  At  first, 
however,  only  a  few  casual  remarks  passed  between 
them.  Then  he  rose,  clapped  down  the  cork  of  the 
opened  jar  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  said : 
"  It's  time  for  me  to  be  steppin'." 

"  Is  it  puttin'  them  away  you'd  be  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Rafferty.     "  Time  it  is  for  that,  bedad." 

"  I  dunno  what  you  may  call  puttin'  them  away. 
I'm  a-goin'  to  take  of  this  one,  that  has  nary  a  sup 
out  of  it,  along  down  to  the  polis-hut  at  Duffclane, 
if  that's  what  you  mane." 

"  The  great  goodness  deliver  us,  Ody  !  what  was 
that  you  were  sayin'  ?  " 

"  Didn't  I  say  it  plain  ?  Is  it  stupid  the  woman's 
grown }  To  the  polis-hut,  I  said.  Wasn't  that 
gomeral  Paddy  up  here  awhile  ago  with  the  order  ? 
Somethin'  he  said  about  lavin'  it  down  at  the  turn 
of  the  road  for  themselves  to  be  fetchin'  it  home, 
but  likely  that  was  just  a  botch  he  was  makin'  of 
the  matter.  That's  no  way  to  be  dcliverin'  of 
goods.  It's  to  their  door  I'll  bring  it  dacint,  and 
morcbetoken  ped  for  it  I'll  be  afore  I  quit.  A 
gallon  of  as  grand  stuff  as  iver  was  poured  in  a 


122  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

glass.  It's  somethin',  bejabers,  to  be  the  polis  these 
times,  givin'  their  orders  for  what's  a  long  sight  too 
good  for  the  likes  o'  them.  Howane'er,  their  money's 
no  worser  than  respectable  people's." 

Mrs.  Rafferty  stood  aghast,  discerning  full  well 
what  had  befallen.  Among  the  most  mischievous 
and  unmanageable  effects  of  "  drink  taken,"  is  the 
supervening  in  the  patient  of  some  fixed  hallucina- 
tion, which  leaves  his  general  faculties  unimpaired, 
or  rather  furbished  up  and  whetted  to  aid  him 
ruinously  in  pursuing  whatever  demented  line  of 
conduct  his  delusion  may  dictate.  To  this  affec- 
tion Ody  was  upon  occasion  subject,  and  it  now 
appeared  that  his  potations  of  the  strong  new 
whiskey  had  already  conjured  up  in  his  mind  a 
grotesque  figment,  which  derived  its  substance  from 
Paddy's  story  of  the  police  ambuscade,  distorted 
out  of  all  shape  into  a  phantom  uncannily  well 
adapted  for  inveigling  him  straight  into  the  trap. 
A  will-o'-the-wisp  luring  him  over  the  bog  with  its 
goblin  glede  could  scarcely  land  him  in  a  more 
critical  position  than  his  would  be  should  he 
present  himself  at  the  barracks,  or  the  place  where 
the  police  lay  in  wait,  with  a  gallon  of  potheen 
avowedly  in  his  possession.  And  such  a  fate  he 
was  evidently  resolved  to  court.  Experience  had 
taught  Mrs.  Rafferty  that  under  these  circumstances 
to  argue  or  remonstrate  was  very  bootless  ;  so  she 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  123 

could  but  look  blankly  from  one  daughters  fai.e  to 
the  other's,  and  in  neither  found  any  more  counsel 
or  comfort  than  in  the  spectacle  of  Tom's  witlcssly 
bobbing  head.  Her  husband  began,  with  cheerful 
whistling,  to  adjust  and  tighten  the  hay-bands 
wound  above  the  tops  of  his  wrinkled  brogues. 

"  Boys,"  she  said  in  a  solemn  whisper  to  a  pair  of 
small  Raffcrty  gossoons,  who  were  at  the  door, 
*'  run  and  huroosha  th'ould  ass  a  bit  down  the  bog, 
afore  he  comes  out.  She's  grazin  there  behind 
the  stack — 'Twill  delay  him  awhile  hoontin'  and 
catchin'  her,"  she  continued,  transferring  the 
whisper  to  her  girls  ;  but  they  all  felt  it  was  only  a 
desperate  and  temporary  expedient. 

"  Look  at  that  objick  now,"  said  Ody,  pausing  at 
the  door  to  eye  Tom's  collapse  with  calm  disdain, 
•'  one  might  suppose  he  was  after  takin'  the  full  of 
Lough  Inagh.  You'd  better  just  dowse  a  pail  of 
water  over  him,  and  let  him  wake  up  and  rowl 
home." 

"  And  how  are  you  goin'  to  manage  along 
wid  on'y  yourself  and  the  ass  ?  "  insinuated  Mrs. 
Rafferty,  catching  at  a  last  straw. 

"  Aisy.  You  haven't  the  sinse  to  comperhind 
that  when  you're  doin'  jobs  for  the  bastely  polls, 
you've  no  need  of  anybody  runnin'  on  ahead  to 
look  round  corners  and  the  like.  Whisht  g.ibbin', 
woman    alive,    and    don't    be    showin'    off   your 


124  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

ignorince."     He  left  his  wife  crushed,  though  not 
in  the  way  he  imagined. 

Ody  had  to  spend  a  considerable  time  in  catching 
Jinny,  as  the  boys  had  done  their  huroooshing  with 
much  enthusiasm.  He  returned  from  the  pursuit 
in  an  ill  humour,  which  he  vented  by  accusing  his 
family  of  having  moved  the  whiskey  jars  on  the 
table,  and  he  stowed  away  the  partially  empty  one 
in  a  recess  by  the  hearth,  breathing  out  grim 
threats  of  vengeance  should  he  find  that  anybody 
had  meddled  with  it  during  his  absence.  Perhaps, 
too,  his  racing,  and  scrambling,  and  shouting  at 
Jinny's  coquettishly  flourished  heels,  had  sliyhtly 
confused  his  ideas.  At  any  rate,  the  bystanders 
exchanged  significant  glances,  when  they  saw  him 
carefully  fasten  a  single  small  turf-sod  over  the  jar 
tied  on  the  ass's  back,  a  proceeding  absurd  con- 
sidered as  a  ruse,  and  furthermore  inconsistent 
with  his  own  account  of  his  errand.  Little  Luke 
Quigley,  a  daring  spirit,  whose  mother  was  con- 
tinually exhorting  him,  in  admiring  accents,  not  to 
be  a  bold  boy,  ventured  to  inquire  :  "  And  did  the 
p61is  order  that  grand  loadin'  of  turf  from  you  too, 
Ody  Rafferty  ?  "  But  Ody  held  impcrturbably  on 
his  way,  if  anything  less  crab-gaited  than  usual, 
and  with  a  prcternaturally  knowing  expression. 
"  You  might  as  well  have  attempted  to  turn  back 
the  sun  in  the  sky,"  his  wife  said,  as  she  ruefully 
watched  him  over  the  hill. 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  125 

By  sunset  that  evening  the  air  had  grown  misty 
and  chilly,  and  the  police  party  down  at  the  biMid 
of  the  road  had  begun  to  weary  of  their  long  watch. 
Constable  M'Kenna  had  left  off  jingling  his  loose 
coins,  and  was  listlessly  shelling  furze-seeds  ; 
Constable  Flynn  had  finished  his  bread  and  cheese  ; 
and  Sergeant  Clarke  found  it  harder  and  harder  to 
keep  his  mind  patiently  fixed  on  the  important 
disclosures  which  would  probably  result  from  the 
capture  of  this  convoy.  They  observed  at  ever 
shorter  intervals :  "  They  had  a  right  to  ha'  been 
here  by  now  ;  "  but  nothing  appeared  except  the 
dusk,  and  at  last  the  sergeant  said  :  "  Accordin'  to 
informations,  I  made  sure  they'd  be  passin'  along 
this  way  to-night ;  but  thcre'd  be  no  use  stayin' 
where  we  are  after  dark,  for  they'd  not  be  likely  to 
leave  themselves  that  late  staitin'  from  the  place 
above.  Well  just  chance  it — Flynn,  do  you  go 
cautious  as  far  as  the  lump  of  rock  yonder,  and 
see  if  there's  a  sign  of  anything  coming  further  up 
the  road.  If  there's  not,  we  may  as  well  be  clearin' 
out  of  this." 

Constable  Flynn  was  soon  in  sight  again,  return- 
ing in  a  succession  of  ducks  and  dives  which 
indicated  the  proximity  of  some  party  whose 
observation  was  to  be  eluded.  "  Yes,  he's  comin' 
along,"  he  said,  "  leastwise  Fm  sure  it's  him.^elf — a 
low-sized   black-lookin'  feller,  with  legs  a  thought 


126  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

bandy,  and  a  little  brown  ass."  "  Ay,  that's  Ody 
Rafferty,"  said  the  sergeant,  "  and  an  ould  lad,  I'm 
given  to  understand." 

"  But  the  quare  part  of  it  is,"  said  Constable 
Flynn,  "  what  way  do  you  suppose  he's  got  it  done 
up  ?  The  jar's  just  cocked  on  the  haste's  back  with 
a  little  dab  of  something  about  the  size  of  your  fist 
stuck  a-top  of  it,  by  way  of  coverin'  belike  ;  but, 
bedad,  it  won't  put  us  to  much  inconvanience 
scarchin'  the  load.  And  he  trampin'  alongside 
lookin'  as  satisned  with  himself  as  if  he  was 
deceivin'  the  nations  around.  The  man  must  be  a 
half-fool  ?  " 

"  He  might  be  after  takin'  a  drop  of  it,  and 
not  be  altogether  himself,"  suggested  Constable 
M'Kenna. 

"  There's  ne'er  a  sign  of  it  on  him  then.     He's 
stompin'  along  as  steady  as  a  bench  of  judges." 
"  And  he's  got  nobody  else  with  him  ?  " 
"  Divil  the  sign  of  a  soul  but  himself" 
"  Would  you  like  to  know  what  the  English  of 
that  is  then  ?  "  said  the  sergeant,  after  brief  reflec- 
tion ;  "it's  just  a  plant — a  dodge  the)''re  up  to,  you 
may  bet   your  boots  it  is.     They've  sent  on  the 
ould  chap  by  himself  to  humbug  us  with  the  notion 
that  he's  the  whole  set  of  them  ;  instead  of  which, 
to  my  sartin'  knowledge   there  was  to  be  at  the 
least  a  couple  more  of  them  in  this  affair.     And 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  127 

while  we're  took  up  discoursin'  him,  and  arrestin' 
him,  and  at  the  heel  of  the  hunt  findin'  very  belike 
that  he's  got  nothing  in  his  ould  jar  but  a  sup  of  sour 
buttermilk  or  some  such  thrash — to  be  risin'  the 
laugh  on  us — the  others  are  schamin'  to  make  off 
by  some  manner  of  route  marchin'  on  this  side  or 
that  of  us,  with  the  stuff  we're  lookin'  for  fixed  up 
neat  and  tasty,  may  be  in  pottles  of  rushes  by  way 
of  salmon — I've  seen  that  sthratagem  employed 
down  about  Lough  Corrib — or  goodness  can  tell 
what  description  of  divilment,  so  as  they'll  be 
givin'  us  the  slip.  Sure  it  stands  to  reason  'tisn't 
for  the  want  of  a  better  contrivance  they'd  ever 
come  foolin'  down  the  road  that  fashion  ;  they 
wouldn't  ha'  played  such  a  tom-noddy  trick  except 
on  a  set  purpose,  you  may  depind." 

"  Troth,  it's  yourself  has  got  the  head  on  your 
shoulders,  sergeant,"  said  Constable  Flynn. 

"  Then  what  are  you  thinkin'  to  do  at  all  ? " 
inquired  Constable  M'Kenna. 

"  Well,  that  must  be  partly  accordin'.  I'll  step 
out  and  have  a  word  with  him  as  he  comes  by,  and 
then  if  to  my  judgment  it  seems  to  be  the  way 
I'm  supposin',  faith,  I'll  just  let  him  go  along  with 
himself  I'll  not  so  far  gratify  him  as  to  have  him 
makin'  a  fool  of  me,  and  delayin'  us  from  attendin' 
to  the  right  boys.  We  mayn't  have  much  chance 
of  nabbin'  them  if  they've  took  off  at  loose  ends 


128  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

through  the  bog  in  this  Hght,  like  so  many  wire- 
worm  slitherin'  in  the  crevices  of  a  clod  of  clay. 
But  we  must  scatter  ourselves  and  do  the  best 
we  can.  Anyhow  we'd  get  no  satisfaction,  only 
annoyance,  out  of  dealin'  with  this  ould  concern 
that's  comin'  here." 

When,  therefore,  Ody  Raffertyand  Jinny  reached 
that  point  on  the  road.  Sergeant  Clarke  had  to  be 
passed  by,  as  he  examined  his  boot- fastenings  with 
.1  preoccupied  air,  and  merely  looked  up  to  remark 
civilly  :  "  It's  a  fine  evenin' ;  gettin'  a  trifle  duskish 
for  travel lin'. 

By  this  time  Ody  can  scarcely  have  been  in  his  best 
fr^rm,  intellectually  speaking,  as  we  may  conclude 
from  the  fact  that  he  pulled  up  and  replied  with  a 
w^nk,  which  even  through  the  dim  twilight  appeared 
egregious  :  "  Ay,  it's  not  too  great  an  illumination 
vv^'re  gettin'  whativer.  But  the  divil  dhrink  up  the 
hap'orth  I've  along  wid  nie  here  that  'ud  inthrist 
you  for  to  be  insjjictin',  sergeant ;  not  if  you'd  the 
b-'^ight  of  noonday  to  be  doin'  it  by." 

"  Sure  not  at  all,"  said  the  sergeant  with  polite 
deprecation,  "why  would  you?  But  you're  not 
distressin'  the  little  ass  any  way  with  the  size  of 
the  load  you're  puttin'  on  her." 

"  Begob  no.  It's  long  sorry  I'd  be  to  be  givin' 
her  any  such  thratemcnt ;  nor  yit  to  be  di.sedifyin' 
her  character,  so  to  spake,  wid    Icltin'  her  carry 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  129 

anyfehin'  that's  conthrary  to  regulations.  So  you 
perceive,  sergeant,  I  can't  offer  you  as  much  as  a 
dhropeen  to  fill  your  flask,  me  hayro  o'  war,  if  you 
happen  to  have  it  about  you." 

"  Ah,  now's  no  time  to  be  talkin'  of  drops,"  said  the 
sergeant,  to  whom  this  overdone  imbecility  seemed 
exactly  the  snare  into  which  he  had  set  his  face 
against  falling,  "  I've  got  to  go  about  my  business. 
We're  distribitin'  poor-law  notices.  And  so  good 
evenin'  to  you." 

Ody  jogged  on  again,  feeling  confusedly  that  the 
interview  had  somehow  been  a  failure.  He  had 
omitted  to  do  or  to  say  something  that  he  had 
intended,  but  what  he  could  not  at  all  determine. 
And  the  thought  bothered  him  so  much,  that  when 
he  had  gone  a  mile  or  two  further  he  sat  down  by 
the  roadside  to  consider  the  point  at  leisure,  while 
Jinny  thriftily  twitched  herself  up  wispy  mouthfuls 
of  bent-grass  from  among  the  broom-clumps  by 
the  light  of  a  drifting  moon. 

The  police,  for  their  part,  continued  to  patrol, 
and  look  out,  and  lie  dispersedly  in  ambush, 
according  to  the  most  approved  methods,  in  the 
hope  of  surprising  his  accomplices,  who  of  course 
were  nowhere  to  be  found.  At  length  they  gave 
it  up,  and  began  to  return  home,  crestfallen,  and 
rather  disposed  to  regret  that  they  had  let  their 
first  and  only  take  slip  out  of  the  meshes.   Sergeant 

10 


jjo  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Clarke  had  perhaps  overreached  himself  by  his 
crafty  manoeuvre.  So  when  they  presently  came 
m  sight  of  Jinny  grazing  beside  her  drowsy  master, 
it  seemed  to  them  Hke  a  not  to  be  expected  repe- 
tition of  an  omitted  opportunity,  and  even  the 
sergeant  felt  that  to  again  neglect  it  were  now 
almost  a  tempting  of  Providence.  Ody  himself 
confirmed  this  impression.  For  roused  by  a 
stentorian  cough  from  Constable  M'Kenna,  which 
affrighted  the  stillness  further  than  a  rifle-crack 
would  have  done  at  noon,  he  started  up,  and  turned 
hurriedly  to  drive  his  beast  off  the  road  into  the 
bog.  He  was  three-parts  asleep,  and  did  so  from 
mere  force  of  habit ;  but  Sergeant  Clarke  read  in 
the  action  a  consciousness  of  guilt,  and  at  once 
gave  the  signal  for  pursuit.  They  had  to  skirt 
round  a  patch  of  swamp,  and  Ody,  urging  Jinny 
on  with  strange  oaths  and  endearments,  had  covered 
some  perilous  ground  before  they  overtook  him. 
Flight  and  chase  were  alike  hasty  and  ill-con- 
sidered, and  had  an  end  natural  enough  when 
people  blunder  hot-foot  through  a  wet  bit  of  bog 
by  the  uncertain  glimpses  of  a  moon,  who  flickers 
out  and  in  and  out  fitfully,  like  a  defectively  con- 
structed revolving  light.  Ody  Rafferty,  and  Jinny, 
and  Sergeant  Clarke,  all  tumbled  headforem.ost 
over  the  edge  of  a  deepish  bog-hole. 

If  they  had  happened  on  one  of  those  not  rarely 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  131 

occurring  black  crev-asscs,  with  smooth,  ruthless- 
looking  walls  and  a  flooring  of  mirky  glimmer 
which,  after  a  few  widening  rings  have  melted 
away,  will  rest  placid  and  unbetraying  above  what- 
ever lies  beneath,  the  chances  are  that  they  would 
still  be  there,  testing  the  conservative  properties  of 
bog- water.  The  accident,  however,  was  not  so 
tragical.  The  hole  into  which  Ody  and  his  com- 
panions had  fallen  was  a  hollow  of  inartificial 
formation,  with  low  broken  banks  at  one  end, 
where  amid  much  splashing  and  bawling  they 
were  all  brought  to  land.  A  thorough  drenching 
and  a  dazed  recollection  of  some  hideous  struggling 
moments  were  the  immediate  consequences  to  the 
two  men.  But  Jinny,  having  dislocated  her  neck, 
was  quite  dead. 

This  twofold  shock  restored  Ody  to  his  sober 
senses,  though  under  the  circumstances  he  could  hit 
upon  nothing  more  effectual  to  do  with  them  than 
sit  gloomily  glowering  at  the  limp  brown  body. 
Jinny  was  killed  on  him,  and  he  had  ignominiously 
delivered  himself  into  the  power  of  the  enemy  ; 
the  situation  shattered  even  his  self-confidence. 
Sergeant  Clarke,  on  the  other  hand,  was  for  the 
time  being  reduced  to  a  state  of  aguish  incapacity, 
so  that  the  conduct  of  affairs  devolved  upon 
Constable  M'Kcnna. 

*'  Be  the  powers  of  smoke,  if  seems  to  me  we'd 


132  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

all  be  the  better  of  a  taste  of  spirits,  supposin'  there 
was  such  a  thing  contiguous,"  he  said,  as  he  cut  the 
strings  which  bound  the  whiskey-jar.  Then  he 
uncorked  it  and  took  a  mouthful,  intending  to  pass 
on  the  jar,  but  instead  of  doing  so,  he  let  it  drop 
with  a  profane  splutter  and  an  agonised  grimace. 
Both  were  in  a  measure  excusable,  for  on  a  chill- 
breathing  night,  a  wet  and  muddy  man  could 
scarcely  imbibe  a  more  coinfortless  draught  than 
one  composed  of  soapy  water  flavoured  with  sour 
goat's  milk. 

"What  ould  dish-washin's  is  it  at  all?"  said 
Constable  Flynn,  watching  the  bluish-white  stream 
gurgle  out  of  the  recumbent  jar. 

The  sergeant  was  too  shivery  to  point  out  the 
accuracy  of  his  conjectures. 

"  The  wife  it  must  ha'  been,"  said  Ody,  in  a  tone 
of  concentrated  bitterness,  "  she'll  ha'  been  after 
doin'  that  on  me  while  I  was  catchin'  misfortnit 
Jinny  there.  She  got  the  better  of  me,  bedad. 
And  the  poor  ass,  that  was  the  on'y  sowl  among 
the  lot  of  us  here  wid  a  raisonable  thought  in  her 
mind,  must  go  for  to  be  breakin'  of  her  neck  and 
drowndin'  of  herself  dead.  Och  yis,  the  wife  got 
greatly  the  bette^of  me  this  time." 

These  two  circumstances  long  remained  a  theme 
of  galling  and  regretful  memories  to  Ody  Rafferty. 
I  believe  he  was  but  slightly  consoled  by  his  own 


GOT  THE  BETTER  OF.  133 

narrow  escape  from  getiinij  into  trouble,  or  even 
by  the  fact  that  Sergeant  Clarke,  after  being  laid 
up  for  weeks  with  a  bad  rheumatic  attack,  ex- 
changed to  another  station,  and  has  not  so  far  had 
an  equally  energetic  successor  at  DufTclane.  Mrs. 
Rafferty  was  dutiful  enough  to  make  profession  in 
public  of  regret  at  Jinny's  demise.  But  she  said 
in  confidence  to  a  friend  :  "  It's  a  loss  on  us,  in 
coorsc.  Howsome'er  there's  no  denyin'  that  Him- 
self had  one  torminted  wid  the  whillaballoo  he 
made  over  her  while  she  was  to  the  fore.  Sure, 
poor  man,  he's  simple  like,  when  he  gits  a  foolish 
notion  in  his  head." 

I  wish  "  Himself"  could  have  heard  her. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HERSELF. 

It  is  a  dozen  years  or  more  since  anybody,  except 
some  small  wild  bird  or  beast,  has  occupied  the 
O'Driscolls*  cabin,  whose  ruins  may  be  traced  beside 
tlie  bit  of  road  between  the  Kilfo}Ies'  and  Big 
Anne's,  and  it  is  much  longer  since  one  would  have 
supposed  it  fit  for  even  human  habitation.  But 
originally  it  was  in  some  respects  a  better  dwelling 
than  any  other  in  Lisconncl,  being  constructed  of 
dense  chinkless  mud,  instead  of  loosely  cohering 
stones.  For  John  O'Driscoll,  who  acted  as  his  own 
architect  and  mason,  could  not  abide  the  thoughts  of 
any  building  material  otlier  than  what  he  had  been 
used  to  before  he  moved,  on  compulsion,  north- 
wards ;  and  he  gave  himself  no  small  additional 
labour  in  order  to  carry  his  point.  Rushes  for 
thatch  he  was  fain  to  put  up  with  ;  but  he  was 
certain  that  no  people  would  ever  get  their  health 
inside  of  them  onnatural  could  stone  walls  ;  and 

»34 


HERSELF.  135 

the  mud  ones  were  undoubtedly  warmer  and  more 
weather-tight.  His  neighbours,  on  the  other  hand, 
always  maintained  that  the  want  of  the  preliminary 
clearance  effected  by  the  necessary  collection  for 
building  purposes,  was  what  caused  his  little  bit  of 
field  to  be  so  many  degrees  more  infested  with 
boulders  than  their  own,  which  look  hopeless 
enough.  Heaven  knows.  But  it  is  in  reality  a  worse 
strip  of  ground  ;  a  mere  skin  of  soil  over  the 
bleached  limestone  skeleton  underneath,  scarcely 
thicker  than  the  sheet  of  paper  on  which  the  land- 
agent  wrote  his  rent-receipt  for  the  wistfully  counted- 
out  shillings  and  small  grimy  note.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  this  "holding"  has  never  yet  found  another 
tenant  ;  and  so  wholly  obliterated  are  all  signs  of 
the  O'Driscolls'  long  struggle  against  its  sterile 
curse,  that  at  the  present  day  you  might  as 
reasonably  regard  it  as  a  site  for  a  stone-quarry  as 
for  a  potato-plot. 

A  potato-plot  it  had  to  be,  however,  through 
many  a  toilsome  season,  though  it  adapted  itself  to 
this  inappropriate  end  with  so  bad  a  grace  that 
people,  who  are  no  strangers  to  phenomena  of  the 
kind,  used  jet  to  marvel  how  the  O'Driscolls 
reared  their  children  on  it  at  all.  Their  own 
account  of  the  matter  was  that  they  made  a  shift 
bomchow,  what  with  one  thing  and  another  ;  and  I 
be!ie\e  that  both  one  thing  and  the  other  would,  if 


136  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

analysed,  have  turned  out  to  be  chiefly  Herself,  as 
every  one  called  Mrs.  O'Driscoll,  giving  her  the 
title  which  is  commonly  bestowed  on  the  mistress 
of  a  household,  but  which  is  used  with  especial 
emphasis  when  she  forms  its  main-spring  and 
moving  spirit. 

She  was  a  fair,  buxom  woman,  of  a  physique  not 
usual  in  Lisconnel,  whose  inhabitants  are  indeed 
very  seldom  fat  and  well-liking.  The  small 
children,  it  is  true,  are  agreeably  round  and 
plump,  but  they  roll  out  quickly  once  they 
grow  to  be  any  size,  and  are  soon  recognisable 
only  by  the  dark-grey  or  violet-blue  eyes,  which 
have  become  melancholy  instead  of  impish. 
In  fact  the  young  people  of  Lisconnel  always 
make  me  think  of  Chaucer's  poor  scholar,  who 
"  lookede  holwe,  and  therto  soberly."  The  older 
people  are  not  less  lean,  but  as  a  rule  somewhat 
cheerier  of  aspect,  partly,  perhaps,  for  just  the 
reasons  that  make  their  juniors  grave.  So  Herself, 
with  her  gracious  curves  and  soft  apple-  and  pear- 
blossom  colouring,  and  rich  golden-threaded  brown 
hair,  came  upon  you  among  her  neighbours'  Spanish- 
black  tresses  and  slender,  if  not  gaunt,  forms,  as 
something  of  a  surprise.  She  would  have  made  an 
ideal  farmer's  wife,  on  a  farm  of  deepcd-grassed 
green  meadows  and  clover-scented  pastures,  where 
she  might  have  queened  it  over  curds  and  cream. 


HERSELF.  137 

But  she  never  had  the  management  of  a  larger 
dairy  than  was  suppHed  by  the  milk  of  a  solitary 
goat ;  and  her  other  possessions  were  in  proportion. 
Certainly  no  woman  could  have  made  more  of 
whatever  property  accrued  to  her  ;  so  perhaps  it 
was  only  fair  that  she  should  be  very  poor,  though 
as  the  aim  of  all  her  industry  and  contrivance  was 
the  welfare  of  other  persons,  it  is  on  altruistic 
grounds  justifiable  to  wish  that  she  had  been 
better  off. 

I  do  not  know  at  what  time  of  her  life  she  passed 
a  self-renouncing  ordinance,  but  whenever  it  may 
have  been,  she  was  unaided  by  that  apathetic 
placidity  of  tem{)erament  which  makes  it  easy  for 
some  of  us  to  renounce,  if  not  ourselves,  at  any 
rate  our  nearest  neighbours.  She  was  full  of  energy 
and  enterprise,  and  had  the  intuitive  deftness  of 
brain  and  hand  which  belongs  almost  exclusively 
to  such  women,  enabling  them  to  evolve  their  in- 
genious designs  with  as  little  visible  effort  and  pre- 
paration as  a  flower  shows  in  unfolding.  This 
(Quality,  by  the  way,  is  what  has  put  into  the  heads 
of  men,  who  can  as  a  rule  set  about  nothing  with- 
out clumsy  thinking  processes,  the  delusion  that 
they  do  all  the  world's  inventing.  The  contrivances 
of  Herself  were  manifold  and  wonderful,  consider- 
ing the  resources  at  her  command.  Some  of  them 
were  imitated  by  her  neighbours,  and  will  I  dare 


138  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

say  survive  among  their  descendants  when  hei 
name  and  story  have  long  been  forgotten.  For 
instance,  she  once  fashioned  for  her  Httle  daughter, 
who  had  a  cut  foot,  a  pair  of  shoes  of  plaite  I 
rushes,  hned  with  the  silky-flocked  down  of  the 
bog-cotton,  and  carefully  assorted  feathers  collected 
from  the  haunts  of  the  hens.  These  turned  out  a 
great  success,  and  at  the  present  day  you  may  now 
and  then  see  a  Lisconnel  child  with  such  foot-gear, 
probably  not  quite  so  dexterously  shaped  and  put 
together,  or  so  patiently  renewed,  as  were  little 
Molly  O'Driscoll's.  Of  rushes,  too,  she  wove  the 
curious  hanging-screens  which  for  many  a  winter 
protected  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  from  the  worst  of  the 
draughts  sighing  through  her  profusely  crannied 
walls  ;  but  the  art  of  weaving  them  so  thickly  as  to 
be  impervious  to  almost  any  shrewd-breathing  gust 
has  died  with  Herself.  And  it  was  she  who  taught 
the  children  an  elaborate  game, still  I  believe  peculiar 
to  Lisconnel,  preparations  for  which,  consisting  of 
small  alternately  black  and  white  piles  of  peats  and 
stones  set  arow  with  mysterous  lines  traced  between, 
may  be  espied  on  smooth  bits  of  ground  along  the 
road.  Yet,  after  all,  invention  is  not  creation,  and 
nothing  short  of  that  could  have  made  the  O'Dris- 
colls'  lot  other  than  a  hard  one,  in  such  barren 
places  had  their  lines  fallen.  And  at  last  Herself 
undertook  a  task  which  proved  beyond  he'-  powcfs. 


HERSELF.  139 

and  imagined  a  device  which  she  was  not  able  to 
perform. 

When  she  first  came  to  Lisconnel  she  was  quite 
a  young  woman,  and  it  is  my  behef  that  she  would 
never  have  grown  old  if  she  could  have  kept  her 
five  children  about  her ;  but  to  do  this  would  have 
been  in  itself  almost  as  great  a  marvel  as  the  dis- 
covery of  an  elixir  of  life.  Of  course  the  family 
broke  up.  Michael,  the  eldest  son,  enli-,ted,  and 
only  came  home  once  just  before  his  regiment 
sailed  for  the  Cape.  His  blue  and  gold  were 
beautiful  to  look  upon,  and  set  the  children  march- 
ing to  and  fro  for  weeks  after  with  a  tin-can  drum. 
When  they  came  towards  his  mother's  door,  she 
bribed  them  with  hoarsely-creaking  whistles,  which 
she  had  a  knack  of  making  out  of  hollow  hemlock 
stalks,  to  go  away  with  their  martial  music  in  the 
opposite  direction.  And  not  long  afterwards  the 
elder  of  the  two  girls  got  married.  However,  she 
did  not  go  to  any  formidable  distance,  and  there 
were  still  Jack  and  Terence  and  Rose  left  at  home. 

Then  began  a  series  of  bad  seasons,  in  the  course 
of  which  the  married  daughter  emigrated  with 
her  husband,  and  wrote  home  word — as  well  as  one 
could  make  out  by  means  of  conjectural  emenda- 
tions— that  "the  States  was  not  too  quare  to  live 
in  and  they  all  had  their  healths  finely,  glory  be  to 
God."     After  that  letter,  the  Stales,  and  the  pos- 


I40  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

sibility  of  resorting  thither,  were  much  talked  of 
under  the  O'Driscolls'  roof.  At  first  Herself  joined 
in  the  discussions  with  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes  ;  for  she 
was  not  in  years  more  than  middle-aged,  and  in 
heart  and  hope  younger,  perhaps,  than  any  of  them. 
Leaving  the  old  country  would,  no  doubt,  be  very 
sad,  and  crossing  the  ocean  rather  terrible,  but 
they  would  all  be  together,  and  it  was  miserable 
work  to  see  the  children  looking  so  starved  and 
perished,  Molly,  too,  would  be  there  to  meet  them 
— "  the  States  "  as  mapped  out  in  the  O'Driscolls' 
minds  were  about  the  size  of  the  Town  down 
beyant,  where  you  could  scarcely  miss  any  one 
you  were  looking  out  for,  if  you  streeled  around  a 
bit — and  who  could  tell  but  that  Mick  might  be 
there  or  thereabouts?  It  stood  to  reason  that 
they  could  not  be  very  far  asunder,  when  they 
were  both  in  foreign  parts.  Herself  began  to 
weave  plans  as  busily  as  a  linnet  weaves  its  nest  in 
the  spring,  and  her  thoughts  went  out  into  the 
future  as  undauntedly  as  a  swallow  starts  on  a 
migration. 

But  one  day  her  husband  spoke  half  a  dozen 
words  which  suddenly  stopped  all  her  hoping  and 
planning,  as  a  small  bird's  flight  is  stopped  by  the 
blow  of  a  stone.  He  said  something  which  showed 
that  he  had  no  intention  of  leaving  Lisconnel,  and 
that  he  nevertheless  assumed    the  children   would 


HERSELF.  141 

go.  This  sentence  was  the  result  of  a  sharp  en- 
gagement between  his  conscience  and  his  wishes — ■ 
doubtfully  the  battle  stood.  Complete  victory  for 
his  conscience  would  have  been  agreement  to  go  ; 
for  his  wishes,  a  denunciation  of  the  whole  project 
in  strong  terms  which  he  knew  would  ensure  its 
abandonment.  So  he  only  attained  to  a  com- 
promise, and  even  that  had  been  dearly  won.  John 
O'DriscoU  was  many  years  older  than  his  wife,  and 
hard  work  and  harder  fare — what  there  was  of  it — 
had  aged  his  tall,  gaunt  frame  before  its  time.  Per- 
haps he  knew  instinctively  that  he  could  not  bear 
transplantation ;  but  at  any  rate  he  knew  without 
need  of  instinct  what  days  of  desolation  he  was 
refusing  to  avert  from  himself,  when  he  said,  "  And 
ye'd  write  to  us  here  ? "  the  words  which  so  filled 
Herself  with  dismay. 

For  a  little  while  she  could  resolutely  take  it  for 
granted  that  the  plan  would  just  be  given  up  ;  but 
as  the  talk  went  on,  and  she  perceived  that  this 
was  not  the  case,  she  froze  into  mute  despair,  where 
she  sat  listening  at  the  open  doorway  in  the 
chill  December  breath  which  brought  her  light 
enough  to  mend  Jack's  coat  Her  husband,  con- 
scious of  his  significant  speech,  did  not  overlook 
its  effect  upon  her,  and  presently,  when  the  others 
had  gone  out,  he  said,  in  a  half  deprecatory  way  : 
**  The  lads  do  be  tired  of  starvin' — the  crathurs." 


142  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

But  she  only  nodded  her  head  faintly,  looking 
strait^ht  before  her,  and  could  make  no  other 
answer. 

After  a  icw  days,  however — few  be  all  such  evil 
days — she  began  again  to  take  part  in  the  discus- 
sions. And  it  now  seemed  that  her  interest  had 
fully  revived,  and  she  could  plan  and  scheme  as 
eagerly  as  ever,  though  the  sparkle  had  gone  out 
of  her  eyes.  She  said  never  a  word  to  discourage 
or  deter  the  lads.  On  the  contrary,  she  actually 
incited  and  persuaded  Rose,  who  at  first  declared 
vehemently  that  she  could  not  possibly  go  and 
leave  them  all  alone.  Her  mother  knew  that  the 
girl  was  restless  and  wearying  for  a  turn  in  the 
bleak  road  of  her  joyless  days.  So  she  said  that 
she  would  be  aisier  in  her  mind  if  she  knew  that  the 
lads  had  their  sister  along  with  them,  and  that  it 
would  be  a  sin  to  throw  away  so  good  a  chance  for 
them  all  to  go  together  happy  and  contint;  and 
that  she  and  the  father  would  be  fine  company  for 
one  another,  and  would  be  kep'  heartened  up 
hcarin'  from  them  now  and  agin — and  maybe 
they'd  come  home  to  her  one  of  those  days. 

The  poor  children  protested  that  they  would  be 
writing  home  continual,  ay,  and  sending  over  the 
money  for  the  rint ;  if  it  wasn't  on'y  for  the  sake  of 
helping  that  a-way,  sorra  the  thing  else  would  take 
them  out  of  the  ould  place.     But  suppose  now  the 


HERSELF.  143 

pitaties  took  and  failed  agin  this  summer,  how 
would  she  and  father  git  on  at  all  ?  Not  that  they 
themselves  could  do  a  hand's  turn  if  they  sted, except 
to  be  aiting  all  before  them.  There  was  the  turf- 
cutting,  to  be  sure,  could  father  conthrive  that  left  to 
himself?  Ah,  maybe  they'd  a  right  to  give  up  the 
notion,  and  thry  gitting  along  the  way  they  were. 

Herself  felt  in  every  fibre  that  this  would  be  as 
the  return  of  a  golden  age.  But  she  said  sure  not 
at  all.  She  had  her  goat,  and  her  hens,  and  the 
young  pig,  and  no  fear  but  they'd  do  right  well. 
And  when  once  the  fine  weather  had  come — she 
was  looking  out  as  she  spoke  over  a  frost-bound 
bog,  with  powdery  white  drifts  like  ashes  in  its 
black  creases,  and  the  keening  wind  smelt  of  the 
coming  snow — why  the  time  would  slip  away 
plisant  enough.  No  doubt  it  was  the  contemplation 
of  those  pleasant  times  that  made  such  broad  silveiy 
streaks  in  her  brown  hair  before  the  swift-footed 
day  of  parting  arrived. 

The  children  went  on  an  afternoon  in  the  eai^y 
spring,  when  the  evenings  are  light  and  cold.  Jack 
had  made  jokes  about  different  things  all  the 
morning,  and  his  mother  had  laughed  at  them, 
which  was  a  more  or  less  equal  division  of  labour. 
But  for  the  last  hour  or  so  he  could  think  of  only 
two.  One  was  :  "  Sure  we'll  be  in  the  way  of 
gettin'  grand  say-fishin'   now  entirely ; "    and   the 


144  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

other :  "  Bedad,  I  think  we'd  a  right  to  take  ould 
Fanny  (the  goat)  thravellin'  wid  us  too."  This  last 
jest  occurred  to  him  when  he  saw  his  mother  milk- 
ing the  creature  that  Rose  might  have  a  bottleful 
to  take  with  her  for  a  drink.  He  was  reduced  to 
repeating  them  alternately  ;  however,  they  served 
the  purpose  just  as  well  as  a  greater  variety  would 
have  done.  His  father  went  out  and  gathered  stones 
in  the  worst  corner  of  the  field.  He  was  not  quite 
sure  whether  he  were  glad  or  sorry  to  find  how 
heavy  the  middling-sized  ones  seemed  to  lift.  Some- 
times he  said  to  himself:  "  I'd  ha'  been  a  burthen  on 
them  if  I'd  ha'  went  ; "  and  sometimes,  "  I  shouldn't 
maybe  ha'  kep'  her  back."  The  others  made  no 
pretences  in  particular. 

Herself  watched  them  out  of  sight  over  the  brow 
of  the  low  hill.  All  the  while  she  was  thinking 
how  one  of  them  might  at  the  last  moment  fling 
down  his  bundle,  and  declare  with  forcible  as- 
severations that  he  would  not  go  a  fut,  as  the 
Cullinanes'  son  had  done  not  so  long  before,  which 
would,  of  course,  have  been  a  great  pity.  Some- 
how she  thought  Jack  would  be  the  most  likely  to 
do  that,  he  was  a  foolish,  poor  l<d.  But,  alas,  the 
three  figures  walked  on  and  on  till  the  ridge  hid 
them  ;  they  had  not  even  forgotten  anything  that 
they  could  run  back  to  fetch.  Then  she  went 
back  into  the  house  and  spoke  cheerfully  to  her 


HERSELF.  145 

husband,  who  sat  huddled  up  by  the  fire,  while  she 
put  away  the  cold  potatoes  left  over  from  dinner 
which  nobody  had  eaten.  He  did  not  answer  her 
for  a  long  time,  and  thun  only  said,  "  Whisht,  hone)', 
whisht."  However,  in  the  course  of  the  evening 
they  said,  between  the  two  of  them,  nine  times  that 
the  childer  had  a  fine  day  for  startin',  any  way, 
and  seven  times  that  they  might  be  hearing  from 
them  next  month,  early.  1  hey  may  have  said 
nothing  else,  but  that  was  in  itself  a  lair  allowance 
of  conversation. 

After  this  black  day  had  passed,  it  was  several 
years  before  any  very  noticeable  incident  occurred 
in  the  history  of  Herself  and  her  husband.  It  may 
be  epitomised  in  the  statement  that  they  got  along 
pretty  middling.  Nov/  and  again  a  curious  little 
scrawl  came  from  overseas  for  them,  with  a  money- 
order  in  it  sometimes — always  when  the  young 
people  had  been  able  to  scrape  together  anything 
worth  sending  ;  but  dollars  are  scarce  occasionally, 
even  in  the  States,  and  as  Terence  wrote,  "  the 
dareness  of  some  things  was  intense."  John 
O'DriscoIl  worked  harder  than  before  at  his 
potatoes  and  turf,  now  that  he  had  no  sons  to  help 
him,  but  Herself  grew  sadly  out  of  her  industrious 
habits.  She  who  was  once  rarely  to  be  seen  without 
a  bit  oTknitting,  or  plaiting,  or  patching  in  progress, 
who  would  pick  bunches  of  ox-eye  daisies  and 
II 


146  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

poppies  to  fill  the  house's  window-pane  with,  ather 
than  rema  n  idle,  or  fashion  quaint  ornaments  for 
her  dresser  of  various  flaggers  and  horsetails  and 
bulrushes,  and  such  other  bog  growths,  would 
now  often  sit  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time  with  her 
hands  empty  before  her.  All  the  purposes  of  her 
life  seemed  to  be  flapping  aimlessly  about  her,  as 
a  sail  does  when  the  fair  wind  drops  or  veers.  I 
fear  she  cannot  have  had  the  true  artist's  spirit, 
since,  failing  an  audience  to  be  pleased  and 
applaud,  she  ceased  to  take  any  intrinsic  pleasu-e 
in  her  production!  She  hadn't  the  heart,  she  said 
herself,  to  be  mindin'  about  such  whim-whams. 
And  now,  of  course,  she  had  no  longer  any  one  to 
criticise  and  admire  except  her  husband,  who  had 
not  by  nature  any  appreciation  for  things  of  the 
kind,  though  to  gratify  her  he  would  look  mourn- 
fully at  what  she  showed  him,  and  say  that  it  was 
a  great  little  affair,  or  that  she  was  a  terrible 
woman  for  consthructions.  But  she  was  to  lose 
even  this  encouragement. 

One  rainy  autumn  John  O'Driscoll  fell  ill,  and 
after  moping  about  for  a  few  days,  took  to  his  bed, 
which  was  composed  of  mud  and  rushes,  drier,  it 
is  true,  than  the  same  materials  as  they  existed 
outside  his  door.  Herself  nursed  him  desperately, 
and  dared  not  fear  that  it  was  anything  serious, 
until  one  night  he  began  saying  "  Wo,  Sheila."  and 


HERSELF.  147 

"  Hup,  Blossom,"  to  the  horses  he  had  ploughed 
with  in  his  younger  days,  and  tvvisicd  his  arms  as 
if  he  were  turning  the  plough-handle  at  a  difficult 
corner.  And  then  despair  stabbed  her  with  an  icy 
thrust. 

Two  or  three  evenings  before  that,  old  Mick 
Ryan,  who  in  those  days  was  still  able-bodied  and 
active,  handed  a  little  dark  object  to  his  daughter 
Bidd}',  and  bade  her  run  over  with  it  to  John 
O'Driscoll.  It  was  a  very  small  morsel  of  the 
tobacco,  which  Mick  treasured  so  fondly  that  he 
could  not  fill  his  pipe  without  some  effort ;  whence 
we  may  calculate  with  how  much  he  gave  any  away. 

"  I  question  is  he  able  for  smokin',''  said  Biddy, 
looking  doubtfully  at  the  fragment.  "  Maryanne 
said  he  seemed  uncommon  bad  when  she  was  in 
there  this  mornin',  and  Herself  told  her  he  hadn't 
took  bite  or  sup,  you  might  say,  these  two  days 
back." 

"  A  good  pipe  of  'baccy's  better  nor  mate  and 
dhrink  to  a  man  any  day,  well  or  ill,"  said  Mick  ; 
"  run  along  and  be  bringin'  it  to  him." 

Biddy  had  run  obediently  some  way,  when  her 
father  called  her  back  again  :  "  You  might  as  well 
be  takin'  that  too,"  he  said,  giving  her  another 
little  lump  which  he  had  in  the  meanwhile  forced 
himself  to  cut  off.  It  represented,  however,  more 
than  his  whole  day's  allowance. 


148  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

On  the  morning  after  John  O'Driscoll's  mind 
had  begun  to  wander,  Biddy  Ryan  came  to  the 
O'Driscolls'  door.  Herself  had  seen  her  coming, 
and  met  her  on  the  threshold  with  a  little  wisp  of 
something  rolled  up  in  paper.  "  It's  your  father's 
bit  of  tobaccy,  Biddy,"  she  said,  "  that  was  never 
touched,  and  I  put  it  aside  for  him,  thinkin'  he 
might  have  a  use  for  it,  and  thank  him  kindly  all 
the  same." 

"Oh  dear,  you  do  look  tired  and  bad  this  day, 
Mrs.  O'DriscoU,"  said  Biddy,  "  and  what  way's 
Himself  at  all  ?  " 

"He's  gone,"  said  his  wife;  "he's  gone  since 
afore  it  was  light  this  mornin'.  The  fever  he  had 
on  him  went  then,  and  all  the  strenth  seemed  to 
die  out  of  him.     And  he's  gone." 

Biddy  began  to  cry.  "  Och,  Mrs.  O'DriscoU, 
darlint,"  she  said,  "  may  the  saints  above  pity  you 
thi°  day.  Ochone,  but  it's  desolit  you're  left> 
woman  dear,  rael  desolit." 

"Ay,  I  am  so,"  Herself  said,  assenting  in  an 
indifferent,  preoccupied  way,  as  if  to  an  unin- 
teresting proposition  about  some  other  person. 

Perhaps  at  no  moment  did  she  fully  emerge 
from  this  half-stunned  state.  The  neighbours 
generally  say  that  she  was  never  the  same  woman 
again,  which  is  true  enough — never  herself  again, 
even   in  name,  for  they  now  spoke  of  her  as  the 


HERSELF.  149 

Widdy  O'DriscolI.  And  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  said 
she  thought  the  crathur  had  in  a  manner  given 
herself  up  ;  but  this  was  not  exactly  the  case.  She 
had  still  a  purpose  in  life  to  which  she  passionately 
clung.  When  she  had  sold  her  pig,  and  her  goat, 
and  all  her  chickens,  in  order  that  John's  coffin 
might  not  be  supplied  from  the  House,  she  set 
herself  to  the  task  of  keeping  the  soul  in  her  body, 
and  the  roof  over  her  head,  until  the  childer 
returned.  But  she  now  no  longer  seemed  to 
anticipate  that  ev^nt  as  a  keen  personal  joy  for 
herself;  she  was  considering  it  in  their  interest, 
and  from  their  point  of  view.  They  would  be  so 
cruelly  disappointed  if  they  came  home  and  found 
nobody  left.  "  We  done  wrong,"  she  said,  "  to  let 
them  go.  Sure,  what's  to  become  of  them,  if  they 
landed  back  into  the  middle  of  disolation,  and  they 
thinkin*  to  find  me  sittin'  be  the  bit  o'  fire,  or  may- 
be takin'  a  look  out  of  the  door  ?  For  who'd  there 
be  to  send  them  word  I  was  quit .''  Wirrasthrew, 
it's  lost  altogether  and  miserable  they'd  be.  Heaven 
purtect  them.  But  sure,  I'll  do  me  endeavours  to 
bide  and  keep  goin'  till  then,  plase  God." 

In  those  days  Mrs.  O'DriscolI  would  have  looked 
a  melancholy  figure  even  to  strangers  who  did  not 
remember  her  in  her  earlier  comeliness.  For  when 
six  months  do  the  work  of  a  dozen  years,  they 
accomplish   their    task    roughly,  and    with    no  re- 


I50  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

lenting  touches.  She  had  shrunk  and  withered 
in  form  and  face.  "  Eh,  woman  dear,"  Mrs. 
Sheridan  once  said  to  her,  "  I'm  thinkin'  that 
ould  gown  of  yours  has  in  a  manner  outgrown 
you."  The  soft  blocm  on  her  cheeks  had  dwindled 
into  hard  little  streaks  among  many-meshed  fine 
lines,  and  she  walked  with  bent  shoulders,  and  the 
uncertain  step  of  an  old  woman  who  has  not  any 
definite  goal  in  view.  All  this  did  not  surprise 
her  neighbours,  because,  though  they  were  unaware 
how  her  dwelling,  still  unchanged  in  outward  aspect, 
had  become  the  lair  of  a  fearful  thing,  which 
needed  to  be  approached  with  strange  and  piteous 
precautions  lest  it  should  leap  forth  and  rend  her, 
they  yet  felt  that  the  forlornness  of  her  plight 
would  well  account  for  these  sad  outward  signs 
of  alteration.  But  there  was  one  thing  about 
her  which  puzzled  tl.em.  They  could  not  see 
any  reason  why  she  should  have  grown  so  fond 
of  colloguing  with  Mad  Bell.  That  this  was  the 
case  nobody  could  doubt,  for  as  often  as  she  went 
past  the  door  of  Big  Anne  and  her  co-tenants 
to  fill  a  bucket  at  the  pool,  she  invariably  now 
stopped  on  her  way  home  at  the  angle  of  the  flat- 
topped  dyke  along  by  their  field,  which  used  to 
be  Mad  Bull's  favourite  roosting-place,  and  if  she 
were  not  visible,  would  generally  loiter  about  there 
until  she  appeared.     It  is  true  that  Mad  Bell,  who 


HERSELF.  151 

was  capricious  in  her  attachments,  had  in  this 
instance  gone  with  the  multitude  so  far  as  to 
entertain  a  decided  regard  for  Mrs.  O'Driscoll, 
and  would  pause  in  the  midst  of  the  most  im- 
passioned song  to  nod  and  grin  at  her.  Their 
intercourse,  liowever,  had  not  been  wont  to  go 
much  further,  since  Mad  Bell,  except  when  at 
fitful  intervals  "  the  humour  took  her  for  talkin','' 
was  a  silent  and  unexpansive  person.  But  now 
Mrs.  O'Driscoll  might  be  seen  by  the  half-hour 
together  sitting  on  the  dyke  beside  the  little 
wizened  yellow-visaged  figure,  and  "  gabbin'  away 
as  thick  as  thieves  ;  "  and  that  too,  mind  you,  on 
a  day  when  she'd  as  like  as  not  pass  a  sensible 
body  on  the  road,  and  scarce  seem  to  take  notice. 
The  neighbours'  perplexity  had  a  tinge  of  grievance 
in  it. 

One  day  it  chanced  that  the  pair  had  an  inter- 
view a  bit  out  on  the  bog,  near  the  place  where 
Brian  Kilfoyle  and  his  wife  were  cutting  long- 
tufted  grass  under  a  bank  for  their  pig.  Mrs. 
O'Driscoll  had  espied  the  gleam  of  Mad  Bell's 
red  petticoat  against  the  black  peat,  and  had  sped 
aftei  it  rather  than  return  home  unfortified  by  a 
word  with  its  wearer.  As  the  Kilfoyles  moved 
along  the  bank,  twitching  up  bunches  of  the 
tangled  green  blades,  they  gradually  came  closer 
to  the   two  women  who  were  sitting  on  the  other 


152  IRISH  IDYLLS, 

side,  and  when  Mrs.  Brian  arrived  within  earshot 
of  their  discourse,  Mrs.  O'Driscoll  was  just  saying: 
"  So,  as  I  said,  Mad  Bell,  I  ought  to  be  steppin' 
back  to  git  the  water  on  the  fire,  in  case  by  any 
odd  chance  Himself  happint  home  to-night  ;  not 
that  it's  anyways  likely,  for  he's  after  gittin'  a  long 
job  down  below  at  Hilfirthy's — thinnin'  mangolds 
and  weedin'  turnips  they  are.  I  wouldn't  wonder 
meself  if  he  wasn't  home  a  fut  before  the  end  of 
the  week." 

"Yis  they  will,  och  they  will,  and  they'll  think 
him  a  gintleman  borrn,  they  will,"  Mad  Bell  mur- 
mured absently.  It  was  the  refrain  of  a  favourite 
ditty,  but  did  not  throw  much  light  upon  the 
matter  in  hand. 

"And  the  lads  are  along  wid  him,"  Mrs. 
O'Driscoll  continued,  "  and  I  tould  you  Rose  was 
gone  to  stay  a  couple  of  days  wid  her  sister  away 
at  Lisnadrum.  It  makes  the  house  seem  lone- 
some like,  Mad  Bell,  me  dear  ;  howsome'er,  it's  just 
for  a  while  you  know.  It's  not  as  if  I  hadn't  their 
comin'  back  to  look  to." 

Mad  Bell  only  nodded  curtly  and  went  on 
humming ;  but  it  was  precisely  this  passive  acqui- 
escence which  made  her  a  valuable  confidante  to 
Mrs.  O'Driscoll,  who  continued,  not  discouraged  : 
"  I'm  thinkin'  after  all  'twill  be  scarce  worth  me 
while  to  be  puttin'  down    any  more  pitaties   this 


HERSELF.  153 

evenin*  on  the  chanst  of  their  comin'.  The  could 
ones  I  have  over  from  this  mornin'  '11  do  grandly 
for  me,  if  I  warm  them  up  ;  and  even  so,  there 
might  be  a  {t.v^  left  to  crisp  for  the  lads  in  case 
they  were  home  agin  breakfast-time  to-morra. 
Jack  does  have  an  oncommon  fancy  for  a  crisp 
pitaty ;  he  always  had  iver  since  his  two  hands 
were  the  size  to  be  houldin'  one.  So  good-night 
to  you  kindly,  Mad  Bell.     I'll  have  a  sup  of  water 

boilin',  and  then  if  they  do  come " 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Brian  accidentally  pulled  a 
clattering  stone  down  along  with  her  wisp  of  grass 
and  Mrs.  O'Driscoll,  startled,  saw  that  she  had 
been  speaking  to  more  ears  than  Mad  Bell's.  She 
looked  confused  and  disconcerted  by  the  discovery, 
and  said  in  an  apologetic  tone  :  "Ah,  Mrs.  Brian, 
sure  I  was  just  in  a  manner  romancin',  if  you  happint 
to  notice.  'Deed  it's  foolish  enough,  very  belike, 
but  she  doesn't  mind,  and  the  truth  is,  the  bit  of  a 
house  there  does  be  that  quite  and  lonesome  on  me 
these  times  and  I  comin'  in,  that  I'm  afeard,  troth 
it's  afeard  I  am  goin'  back  to  it,  onless  I've  some- 
thin'  made  up  in  me  mind  to  hould  off  the  thought 
like.  For,  goodness  help  me,  when  I'm  steppin' 
up  to  the  door,  if  I  was  to  be  thinkin'  all  the  while 
'twould  be  that  same  way,  wid  niver  the  sound  of  a 
voice  or  the  stir  of  a  fut  inside  for  iver  and  iver- 
more — sure  I'd  be  fit  to  go  disthracted  outright,  so 


154  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

I  would.  Och,  but  it's  that  I  go  in  dread  of.  And 
there's  the  raison  why  I  keep  lettin'  on  they're  on'y 
away  tempor'y.  In  coorse  I  know  it's  makin'  a 
fool  of  meself  I  am,  but  it's  a  sort  o'  comfort  all 
the  same.  And  it  seems  more  nathural  when  I  get 
tellin'  it,  and  ta'kin'  about  them  to  somebody  else. 
SJu  niver  throubles  herself,  the  crathur,  whativer 
you  let  on  to  her,  or  minds  to  be  conthradictin'. 
Sure  now,  there's  no  sin  in  it,  is  there,  ma'am  ? 
when  it's  on'y  yourself  you're  deceivin'.  So  I  just 
pluther  away  to  her  for  me  own  contintmint." 

"And  bedad  I  hadn't  the  heart,"  Mrs.  Brian 
said,  when  relating  the  incident  to  her  friends,  "  for 
to  say  anythin'  agin  it  to  her  ;  though  it's  a  quare 
kind  of  consowlment  it  seems  to  me.  But  och,  she 
must  be  hard  put  to  it  these  times  to  find  any  at 
all." 

"If  she'd  say  an  odd  prayer  for  them  now  and 
agin,"  said  the  widow  M'Gurk  with  some  sternness, 
"  she'd  be  better  employed,  and  there  might  be 
more  sinse  in  it  than  conthrivin'  ould  invintions." 

"  She  might,  to  be  sure,"  Mrs.  Brian  said,  doubt- 
fully, "  but  accordin'  to  me  own  experience  there's 
nought  aisicr  than  to  be  sayin'  one's  prayers  and 
thinkin'  ot  diffrint  things  at  the  same  time,  and 
that's  no  disthraction  aither  to  a  body's  mind. 
You  might  as  well  be  sthrivin'  to  keep  the  win'  out 
wid  a  sieve  full  of  holes." 


HERSELF.  155 

"  I  do  suppose  there's  some  things  there's  no  use 
ti\in'  to  contind  wid,  and  that's  a  fac',"  said  old 
]\Irs.  Kilfijyle,  "if  one  could  make  one's  mind  up 
to  believe  it.  But  maybe,  plase  God,  she  won't  be 
spared  over  long." 

]\Irs.  O'Driscoll,  however,  stuck  persistently  to 
her  forlorn  device.  Even  on  days  when  Mad 
Bell  was  not  forthcoming  to  act  as  interlocutor,  she 
would  pause  at  the  accustomed  point  on  her  way 
home,  and  her  lips  might  be  seen  moving,  as  if  she 
were  romancing  to  herself.  Once  Pat  Ryan,  who 
passed  her  by  on  an  occasion  when  she  had  been 
bringing  in  a  load  of  turf,  reported  a  new  phase  of 
self-delusion.  *'  For,"  said  he,  "  I  give  you  me 
word,  she'd  her  creel  there  set  down  on  the  dyke, 
and  first  she'd  take  one  little  bit  of  a  sod,  and  lay 
it  on  the  flat  of  the  stone,  and  'That's  Roseen's' 
she'd  say,  and  then  she'd  put  another  beside  it,  and 
sez  she  :  '  and  that's  what  I  got  the  lads — and 
here's  for  Molly,'  sez  she,  and  so  on.  Then  she'd 
be  puttin'  them  back  in  the  creel,  but  she'd  stop  to 
take  another  look  at  them,  makin'  as  if  she  was 
considherin',  and  '  Maybe,'  sez  she,  '  this  here  'ud 
do  better  for  the  boys,  and  Molly  might  liefer  have 
the  pink-coloured  one.'  That's  the  way  she  kcp' 
talkin'  to  herself,  and  I  couldn't  think  what  she  was 
at,  till  the  idee  came  into  me  head  'twas  lettin'  on 
she  was  to  be  comin'  home    from  the  Town,  wid 


T56  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

thrifles  of  presents  in  her  basket  for  the  childher — 
and  they  grown  and  gone.  But  all  the  while  you 
could  perceive  she  knew  right  well  she  was  just 
p:irsuadin'  herself  agin  her  raison  ;  on'y  she  couldn't 
abide  to  be  thinkin'  so.  Sure,  'twas  melancholious," 
said  Pat,  "  to  see  her  there  on  the  roadside  in  the 
rain,  fiddlin'  about  with  them  ould  scraps  of  turf- 
sods,  all  be  herself" 

When  the  neighbours  heard  it,  many  of  them 
shook  tlieir  heads  oracularly,  and  said  'twouldn't 
be  apt  to  go  on  that-a  way  for  very  long.  But  how 
long  it  might  have  gone  on  in  the  natural  course 
of  things  cannot  now  be  known,  for  it  was  brought 
to  an  end  by  the  interposition  of  the  law's  strong 
arm.  It  was  not,  I  am  sure,  "  the  childer's  "  fault 
that  for  some  time  before  their  father's  death  their 
scrawls  and  money-orders  had  arrived  but  seldom 
at  Lisconnel.  The  contents  of  the  communications 
which  did  get  there  showed  plainly  that  they  were 
themselves  struggling  along  painfully  enough  in 
the  new  world,  and  likewise  that  several  other 
scrawls  had  failed  to  reach  their  destination — not 
a  surprising  result,  when  one  considers  their 
quaintly  enigmatical  superscriptions — and  may  at 
the  present  writing  be  stowed  unavailingly  away  in 
blind  or  dead-letter  departments.  But  this  falling 
off  of  remittances,  conjoined  with  a  series  of  bad 
seasons,      hastened     the      accumulation     of     the 


HERSELF.  157 

O'Driscolls*  arrears ;  and  when  John  died,  the 
land-agent  wrote  to  his  employer  at  the  Carlton 
that  the  widow's  ever  paying  up  appeared  to  be 
an  utterly  hopeless  matter — which  was  quite  true. 
Her  neighbours  were  indeed  ready  to  lend  her,  as 
far  as  possible,  a  helping  hand,  but  it  could  not 
extend  itself  to  the  payment  of  her  rent,  and  to 
grub  that  out  of  her  screed  of  stony  ground  was  a 
task  beyond  her  powers.  The  land-agent  also 
wrote  that  the  poor  woman,  who  seemed  to  be  an 
uncivilised,  feeble-minded  sort  of  creature,  would 
be  much  better  in  the  Union,  and  that  as  she  must 
at  any  rate  be  got  rid  of,  he  had  taken  immediate 
steps  for  serving  her  with  the  necessary  notices. 
The  woman's  own  view  of  the  case  was  in  sum  ; 
"  Sure,  what  would  become  of  the  childer  if  she 
would  be  put  out  of  it  ? "  an  argument  the  futility 
of  which  it  would  have  been  hard  to  make  her 
understand. 

She  was  put  out  of  it,  however,  one  blustery 
autumn  day,  when  the  sub-sheriff's  party  and  the 
police  had  caused  an  unwonted  stir  and  bustle  all 
the  morning  on  the  Duffclane  road,  along  which  so 
many  feet  seldom  pass  in  a  twelvemonth.  The 
district  was  reported  disturbed,  and  therefore  a 
squadron  of  dragoons  had  been  brought  from  the 
nearest  garrison,  a  tedious  way  off,  to  protect  and 
overawe.     Their  scarlet    tunics  and  brass  helmets 


158  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

enlivened  the  outward  aspect  of  the  proceedings 
vastl}',  making  such  a  gorgeous  pageant  as  our 
black  bogland  has  perhaps  never  witnessed  before 
or  since.  Not  a  gossoon  but  worshipped  the  stately 
horses  as  they  passed,  and  thought  their  plumed 
and  burnished  riders  almost  as  supernaturally 
superb.  But  it  must  be  owned  that  the  latter 
were  for  the  most  part  in  very  human  bad-tempers. 
In  fact  when  they  ascertained  the  nature  and  scope 
of  the  duty  on  which  they  had  come  so  far,  some 
of  them  said  a  choleric  word  with  such  emphasis 
that  their  superiors  were  obliged  to  choose  between 
deafness  and  mutiny,  or  at  least  insubordination, 
and  discreetly  preferred  the  lesser  evil. 

When  the  invading  force  entered  Lisconnel, 
which  it  did  among  afternoon  beams,  just  begun 
to  mellow  and  slant  dazzlingly,  it  found  an  ally  in 
old  Mrs.  Kilfo\lc,  inasmuch  as  she  enticed  Mrs. 
O'Driscoll  to  pay  her  a  visit  at  the  critical  moment 
of  its  arrival.  The  old  woman  had  recognised  the 
widow  O'Driscoll's  fate  as  one  of  those  things 
with  which  there  is  no  contending,  and  had  said  to 
herself  and  her  daughter-in-law  :  "  Where's  the  use 
of  havin'  them  risin'  a  row  there  wid  draggin'  her 
out,  the  crathur,  God  pity  her,  that  '11  niver  quit,  for 
sartin,  of  her  own  free  will  ?  I'll  just  step  over  to 
her  and  axe  her  to  come  give  me  a  hand  wid 
mendin'  the  bottom    that's    faUin'   out   of  th'ould 


HERSELF.  159 

turf-crcel.  She  did  always  be  great  at  them  jobs, 
and  always  ready  to  do  a  body  a  good  turn,  I'll 
say  that  for  her." 

"  'Deed  yis,"  said  Mrs.  Brian. 

So  it  came  about  that  at  the  time  when  the 
forcible  entrance  of  her  cabin  was  being  effected, 
Mrs.  O'Driscoll  was  out  of  sight  in  the  Kilfoyles' 
dark  little  room,  where  the  two  Mrs.  Kilfoyles 
detained  her  as  long  as  they  could.  But  in  the 
end  they  were  not  able  to  prevent  the  evicted 
tenant  from  joining  the  group  of  angry  and  scared 
and  woe-begone  faces,  gathered  as  near  the 
doomed  dwelling  as  the  authorities  would  permit, 
and  from  saying,  "  Wirra,  wirra,"  in  a  half-be- 
wildered horror,  as  she  saw  each  one  more  of  her 
few  goods  and  chattels  added  to  the  little  heap  of 
chaos  into  which  her  domestic  world  had  changed 
fast  by  her  door.  It  was  decreed  that  her  cabin 
should  be  not  only  unroofed  but  demolished, 
because,  as  an  old  bailiff  dolefully  remarked, 
"  There  niver  was  any  tellin'  where  you'd  have 
those  boyos.  As  like  as  not  they'd  land  the  thatch 
on  to  it  agin,  the  first  minnit  your  back  was  turned, 
as  aisy  as  you'd  clap  your  ould  caubeen  on  your 
head,  and  there'd  be  tlie  whole  botheration  over 
agin  as  fresh  as  a  daisy."  Therefore  when  the 
ancient,  smoke-steeped,  weather-worn  covering  had 
been  plucked  from  off  the  skeleton  rafters,  and  lay 


I  Go  IRISH  IDYLLS 

strewn  around  in  flocks  and  wisps  like  the  wreck 
of  an  ogre's  brown  wig,  the  picks  and  crowbars 
came  into  play,  for  it  was  before  the  days  of 
battering-ram  or  maiden.  The  mud  walls  were 
solid  and  thick,  yet  had  to  yield,  and  presently  a 
broad  bit  of  the  back  wall  fell  outward  all  of  a 
piece,  as  no  other  sort  of  masonry  falls,  with  a  dull, 
heavy  thud  like  a  dead  body.  The  limewashed 
inner  surface,  thus  turned  up  skywards,  gleamed 
sharply,  despite  all  its  smoke-grime,  against  the 
drab  clay,  and  though  the  interior  had  been  very 
thoroughly  dismantled,  a  few  small  pictures  were 
still  visible,  nailed  on  the  white.  As  the  cordon 
of  poHcc  and  other  officials  fell  back  a  pace  or  so 
to  avoid  the  toppling  wall,  the  widow  M'Gurk 
seized  the  opportunity  to  make  a  sally  and  capture 
one  of  these  derelict  ornaments.  It  was  a  Holy 
Family,  a  crudely  coloured  print,  all  crimson  and 
blue,  with  a  deep  gilt  border,  such  as  you  might 
purchase  for  a  halfpenny  any  day. 

"  Ay,  sure  it's  great  men  you  are  intirely  to  be 
evictin'  the  likes  of  them,"  she  cried  shrilly,  waving 
her  loot  aloft,  as  she  was  hustled  back  to  a  respect- 
ful distance,  and  Lisconnel  responded  with  a  low 
and  sullen  murmur. 

But  Mrs.  O'Driscoll's  attention  was  very  oppor- 
tunely taken  up  by  the  restoration  of  this  piece  of 
property.     "  Och,  woman  alive,"  she  said,  "  and  it 


HERSELF.  l6i 

was  Himself  brought  me  that  one — give  it  to  me 
into  me  hand.  Sure  I  remimber  the  day  yit,  as  if 
the  sun  hadn't  gone  down  on  it.  Th'ould  higgler 
F'inny  had  come  up  wid  his  basket,  and  while  some 
of  the  rest  did  be  about  gittin'  a  few  trifles,  I  was 
in  an  oncommon  admiration  of  this  ;  howsome'er  I^ 
hadn't  a  pinny  to  me  name  to  be  spindin'  on  any- 
thin'  in  the  world,  so  I  let  him  go.  But  sure 
Himself  met  him  below  on  the  road,  and  happint  to 
have  a  ha'pinny  about  him,  and  so  he  brought  it 
home  to  me.  I  mind  I  run  out  and  borried  a  tack 
from  poor  Mick  Ryan  to  put  it  up  wid.  Ah  dear, 
look  now  at  the  tear  it's  got  at  the  top  comin'  off." 

This  damage  seemed  for  the  time  being  to  con- 
cern her  more  than  any  of  her  other  troubles,  and 
she  allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  away  on  the 
pretext  of  depositing  the  picture  safely  in  the 
Kilfoyles'  cabin,  where  she  remained  until  the 
invaders  had  departed  from  Lisconnel.  Everybody 
else  watched  them  trooping  off  over  the  bogland, 
with  brass  and  scarlet  flashing  and  glowing 
splendidly  in  windy  gleams  of  the  sunset.  They 
had  gone  a  long  way  before  the  purple-shadowed 
gloaming  had  swallowed  up  the  last  far-espied 
glitter. 

With  the  Kilfoyles  she  found  a  lodging  for  some 
time,  but  she  ended  her  days  at  the  widow 
M'Gurk's  where  there  was  no  less  hospitality  and 

12 


i62  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

more   spare   room.     She   was  persuaded  to  make 
the  move  chiefly  by  the  consideration    that    she 
would  there  be  nearer  the  crest  of  the  hill.     For 
the  dominant  dread  which  now  brooded  over  her 
life — we  so  seldom  fall  too  low  for  special  fear — 
was  the  home-coming  of  the  childer  :    "  And  they 
to  be   steppin'  along,  the    crathurs,  expectin'   no 
larm,  and  then  when  they're  up  the  hill,  and  in  sight 
of  our  bit  of  a  house,  all  of  a  suddint  to  see  there 
was  no  thrace  of  it   on'y   a   disolit   roon.     They 
might  better  keep  the  breadth  of   the    ocean-say 
between  them  and  that."     She  seemed  to  be  con- 
tinually living  through  in  imagination  this  terrible 
moment,  and  grew  more  and  more  eager  to  avert 
it.     *'  If  I   could  get  e'er  a   chanst    to    see   them 
comin'  the  road,"  she  said,  "and  give  them  warnin' 
afore  they'd  crossed  the  knockawn,  'twouldn't  come 
so  crool  hard  on  them."     And  with  that  end  in 
view,  she  spent  many  an  hour  of  the  bleak  winter 
days  which  followed  her  eviction   in   looking  out 
from  the  unsheltered    hillside  towards  Duffclane. 
It  was  vain  now  for  any  neighbour  to  profess  a 
firm  belief  that  they  would  never  return,  just  as 
confidently  as  he  or  she  had  formerly  been  used  to 
predict  their  appearance  one  of  these  days.     Mrs. 
O'Driscoll  listened  meekly  while  it    was    pointed 
out  to  her  how  probably  they  had  settled  them- 
selves down  over  there  for  good   and  all,  and  got 
married  maybe  ;  or  who  could  tell  that  one  of  them 


HERSELF.  163 

mightn't  have  been  took  bad,  and  have  gone 
be\ond  this  world  altogether  the  same  as  his  poor 
father  ?  But  then  she  went  and  looked  out  again. 
The  young  Doynes  and  Sheridans,  who  at  that 
time  were  quite  small  children,  remember  how 
she  would  stop  them  when  she  met  them,  and  bid 
them  be  sure,  if  ever  by  any  chance  they  saw  Rose 
or  one  of  the  lads  coming  along,  to  mind  and  tell 
them  that  their  father  was  gone,  and  she  was  put 
out  of  it,  but  that  Mrs.  M'Gurk  was  givin'  her 
shelter,  and  no  fear  they  wouldn't  find  her;  and  to 
bid  them  make  haste,  all  the  haste  they  could. 

It  must  have  been  when  she  was  on  the  watch 
one  perishing  March  day  that  she  caught  the  cold 
which  carried  her  off  with  very  little  resistance  on 
her  part.  She  was  herself  too  weak,  and  still  too 
much  taken  up  with  the  childer's  affairs,  to  fret 
about  the  fact  that  the  expenses  of  her  "buryin"' 
would  certainly  be  defrayed  by  the  House,  but  it 
distressed  Lisconnel  seriously,  and  would  never 
have  been  permitted  to  occur,  could  the  requisite 
sum  have  been  by  any  means  amassed.  The 
circumstance  added  some  gloom  to  the  sorrowful 
mood  in  which  her  neighbours  saw  another  proces- 
sion pass  over  the  hill  on  a  still  wet  morning,  when 
the  rain  rustled  all  along  the  road,  and  the  grey 
mist  curtains  were  closely  drawn. 

None  of  the  childer  have  come  back  again,  and 
it  may  now  be  hoped  that  they  never  will. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR. 

Considering  everything,  Lisconnel  musters  as 
large  a  congregation  as  could  be  expected  for  Mass 
down  beyant  on  Sundays  and  saints'  days.  But 
then  so  many  things  have  to  be  considered,  includ- 
ing primarily  those  long  miles  of  desolate  road, 
that  its  numbers  are  actually  small.  For  when 
from  the  population  of  the  place  you  have  deducted 
the  people  who  are  too  young,  or  too  old,  or 
crippled  like  Peter  and  Peg  Sheridan,  or  minding 
babies  and  invalids ;  and  from  the  residuum  again 
abstract  the  men  who  prefer  basking  in  the  sun, 
should  it  happen  to  spread  that  poor  man's  feast, 
and  the  boys  who  under  any  meteorological  con- 
ditions whatever  would  choose  rather  to  rush  and 
yell  about  the  wild  bog  than  sit  still  within  four 
solemn  walls,  you  will  find  no  very  imposing  con- 
tingent left.  Of  course  there  are  many  days  of  the 
year  when  wind  and  weather  permit  nobody  to 
attempt  tlie  journey.     But  a  few  people  perform  it 

164 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  165 

with  much  regularity ;  the  widow  M'Gurk,  for 
instance,  a  strong  and  quick  walker,  and  Big  Anne, 
who  stumps  on  steadily  and  perseveringly,  and  say?, 
"  Musha,  good  gracious,  glory  be  to  God,  it's  here  I 
am,"  when  she  arrives.  Little  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle, 
too,  might  for  many  years  be  met  pattering  along 
with  a  clean  white  flannel  petticoat  over  her  head, 
and  her  face  looking  out  quaintly  through  the 
pocket-hole.  This  is  the  fashionable  substitute  for 
a  cloak  in  Lisconncl,  and  Mrs.  Kilfoyle's  venerable 
blue-cloth  hooded  garment,  soon  after  it  came  into 
her  possession  by  inheritance,  had  been  stolen  by  a 
passing  vagrant,  to  the  lasting  impoverishment  of 
her  family  in  the  female  line.  She  used  to  trot  on 
with  a  briskness  and  staying  power  which  did  her 
son  Brian's  heart  good  to  see.  When  the  neigh- 
bours commented  upon  it,  and  said  sure,  bedad, 
she  was  as  young  as  any  of  them,  he  was  as  much 
pleased  as  if  some  one  had  guaranteed  him  ten 
years'  good  harvests.  For  by  that  time  she  muse 
have  been  verging  upon  eighty,  according  to  con- 
jecture— in  Lisconncl  our  ages  are  always  more  u* 
less  matters  of  guess-work,  once  they  begin  to  be 
reckoned  by  years.  But  one  Sunday — it  was  a  mild, 
mellow-lighted  September  afternoon — she  grew  so 
very  tired  on  the  way  back,  that  they  had  the  work 
of  the  world  getting  her  home,  and  she  never  went 
to   Mass  again  ;  though,  by  one  of  those  fictions 


1 66  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

which  make  Hfe  endurable,  it  was  ahvays  under- 
stood that  she  would  resume  th:  practice  when  the 
weather  did  be  something  drier,  or  warmer,  or 
cooler,  please  goodness,  coming  on  Easter  or 
Michaelmas,  And  Brian  found  this  a  sadly 
shrunken  source  of  satisfaction. 

During  the  late  summer  and  early  autumn,  Lis- 
connel  is  most  frequently  and  numerously  repre- 
sented in  the  little  chapel  near  the  Town,  partly, 
perhaps,  because  its  inhabitants  are  at  this  season 
better  fed,  and  have  consequently  more  energies  to 
spare  for  extra  exertions,  and  partly  because  in  the 
pleasant  breezy  blue  and  white  mornings  mothers 
and  wives  and  sisters  find  it  easier  to  beat  up 
recruits  for  their  three-hours'  trudge  to  first  Mass. 
Even  on  rare  occasions  when  there  is  a  station  held 
at  Duffclane,  which  cuts  a  couple  of  miles  off  their 
tramp,  the  start  has  to  be  a  timely  one,  made  while 
your  long  shadow  eclipses  many  twinkling  stars  in 
the  grass  as  it  slides  before  you,  and  while  the  air 
is  still  fresh  with  dew.  On  such  mornings  as  these, 
(^uite  a  procession  sometimes  goes  over  the  knock- 
awn,  the  white  cloaks  and  the  shirtsleeves  gleam- 
ing with  a  stainlessness  and  snowiness  which 
always  puzzles  me,  when  I  look  into  the  dark 
doors  wlience  they  issue. 

I  do  not  think  that  Lisconnel  afflicts  itself  much 
about  its  remoteness  from  chapel,  and  this  equa- 


THUADER  IN  THE  AIR.  167 

nimity  is  in  a  measure  due  to  the  attitude  adopted 
by  old  Father  Rooney,  who  has  for  over  forty 
years  been  its  parish  priest.  In  his  most  active 
days  he  recognised  how  impossible  it  would  be  to 
establish  any  very  close  connections  between  him- 
self and  that  furthest  outlying  shred  of  his  widely 
scattered  cure,  and  a  natural  benevolence  of  dispo- 
sition inclined  him  to  console  his  parishioners  for 
their  inevitable  stinting  in  the  matter  of  his  minis- 
trations. Perhaps,  also,  the  breadth  of  the  spacious 
physical  horizon  which  he  had  before  his  eyes  as 
he  rode  about  the  bogs,  may  have  somehow  influ- 
enced his  mental  vision. 

"  JMe  good  v.oman,"  he  exhorted  Mrs.  M'Gurk 
one  day,  when  she  had  been  lamenting  the  proba- 
bility that  it  might  be  her  husband's  fate  to  die 
without  his  clergy,  "you  should  not  be  making 
your  mind  too  uneasy  on  that  score.  Send  for  me 
of  course,  and  if  by  any  means  I  can  come  up  to 
you,  well  and  good.  But  if  I'm  prevented,  you've 
no  call  to  be  supposing  that  you'll  be  left  without 
every  sort  of  assistance  for  that  reason.  Likely 
enough  I  maybe  all  the  while  riding  off  Sallinmore 
ways  or  Drumesk  ways  as  fast  as  I  can  contrive, 
but  I'm  not  taking  the  blessed  saints  and  the 
Mother  of  Mercy,  and  the  rest  following  along  with 
me  same  as  if  I  was,  so  to  speak,  showing  them 
their  ro.id.     They  know  where  they're  wanted  as 


i68  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

well  as  you  or  I,  you  may  depend,  and  won't  be 
asking  either  of  our  leaves  to  get  there."  Mrs. 
M'Gurk  was  slightly  shocked  and  greatly  relieved 
by  this  view  of  the  matter.  I  am  not  prepared  to 
deny  that  if  her  circumstances  had  been  less  utterly 
poverty-stricken,  Father  Rooney  might  have  sin- 
cerely believed  it  his  duty  to  point  out  a  more 
expensive  method  of  quieting  her  misgivings.  But 
extreme  indigence  has  some  immunities,  and  these 
people  of  Lisconnel  are  such  empty-handed  travel- 
lers between  life  and  death  that  no  one  can  be 
much  tempted  to  demand  this  kind  of  toll  from 
them  on  the  way. 

•  Father  Carroll,  who  sometimes  assists  Father 
Rooney,  takes  a  rather  sterner  view  of  things, 
which,  however,  does  not  count  for  much  here  or 
there,  owing  to  his  smaller  popularity.  The  people 
generally  speak  of  him  as  "  the  cross  priest,"  less 
because  they  really  know  anything  to  the  disad- 
vantage of  his  temper,  than  because  his  harsh- 
featured,  blue-shaven  face  look's  somewhat  grim 
beside  the  other's  kindly  ruddy  countenance  and 
fringe  of  white  hair.  To  some  persons  Father  Car- 
roll's outward  man  would  suggest  a  suspicion  that 
he  was  habitually  guarding  dark  secrets  ;  but  I  do 
not  believe  that  this  is  the  case.  He  is  on  more 
substantial  grounds  considered  to  have  "  a  great 
eye  entirely  for  a  good  horse." 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  169 

One  Saint  Peter's  Day  he  came  up  to  Lisconnel 
on  an  urgent  sick  call,  and  when  departing  fell  in 
with  Terence  Doyne,  a  wildish  lad,  to  whom  he 
put  the  question  why  he  had  not  gone  to  Mass  that 
morning  with  his  parents,  instead  of  fishing  for 
pinkeens  along  by  the  river,  appending  as  a  sort  of 
corollary — which,  we  know,  is  often  more  puzzling 
than  the  original  proposition — a  request  to  be 
informed  what  effect  on  his  final  destinies  Terence 
anticipated  from  such  a  line  of  conduct.  Terence 
replied  :  "  Whethen,  your  Riverince,  I'll  be  right 
enough  I'm  thinkin'.  Mass  or  no  Mass,  wid  me 
mother  down  below  there  prayin'  away  for  me  like 
iverything  you  could  name.  Sure  you  wouldn't 
say  they'd  go  for  to  be  makin'  a  fool  of  her,  lettin' 
her  waste  her  time  axin'  for  nothin'  she'll  git.  If 
they  would,  she  might  as  well  ha'  been  after  thim 
pinkeens,  that's  as  slithery  to  try  catch  as  little  ould 
divils.  Did  your  Riverince  iver  hare  tell  there  was 
troutses  in  the  bit  of  sthrame  along  yonder  ?  " 

Terence  was  trying  to  slip  away  from  the  point, 
but  Father  Carroll  would  not  be  evaded,  and  said  : 
"  No,  Terence ;  to  be  certain  your  mother  will 
experience  the  benefit  of  her  prayers.  But  suppose 
she's  granted  something  else  better,  instead  of  the 
saving  of  a  young  slieveen  like  yourself — and  such 
a  thing  5s  easy  enough  to  imagine — where'd  you  be 
then,  me  fine  lad  ?  " 


I70  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

This  presentment  of  the  case  somewhat  flabber- 
gasted Terence,  and  his  Reverence  would  probably 
have  had  the  last  word,  if  Terence's  brother  Matt, 
a  smaller  and  more  reflective  gossoon,  had  not 
intervened,  saying  confidently :  "  There's  nary  no 
such  a  thing  to  be  had.  Sorra  another  thing  'ud 
pacify  me  mother,  if  anything  went  agin  him — not 
if  it  was  the  iligintest  could  be  consaivcd.  She's 
always  had  such  a  wish  for  him  " — Matt  pointed  to 
Terence — "  as  niver  was.  Musha,  but  it's  a  fine  time 
them  saints  would  be  havin'  ;  it's  pluther,  pluthcr, 
pluther,  she'd  go,  like  th'ould  hummin'-machine 
they  had  threshin'  oats  down  at  Hilfirthy's  below, 
and  divil  a  minnit's  paice  'ud  one  of  thim  git  wid 
her,  if  anybody  looked  crooked  at  him." 

Father  Carroll  had  not  an  argument  ready,  so  he 
only  said,  "The  poor  woman  seems  likely  to  have 
her  own  work  with  the  pair  of  you,"  and  the  ad- 
vantage may  be  considered  to  have  rested  with  the 
brothers. 

Several  years  after  this,  a  most  brilliant  July 
Sunday  rose  upon  Lisconnel,  and  by  seven  o'clock 
the  people  bound  for  chapel  were  prepared  to  start. 
It  was  a  hot,  very  still  morning.  The  invisible 
hand,  which  is  almost  always  combing  the  rushes 
and  sedges  about  the  marsh}'  pools,  had  for  once 
left  them  to  stand  straight,  and  there  was  not  a 
breath  stirring-  that  could  have  carried  the  licrhtest 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  171 

cloud-fleck  across  tlie  deep  speedwell-blue  of  the 
sky,  where,  however  no  clouds  were  to  be  seen. 
Yet  old  Mick  Ryan,  who  was  sunning  himself  at 
his  door,  said  that  the  weather  looked  none  too  fine, 
and  wouldn't  hold  up  much  longer.  "  It's  too  clare 
altogether  over  yonder,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
far-off  horizon,  against  which  a  sharp  peak  was 
delicately  outlined  in  faint  wild-violet  colour. 
"  We'll  be  apt  to  be  havin'  a  crack  of  thunder 
prisently ;  it's  in  the  air."  But  the  others  said 
they  saw  no  signs  of  it ;  and  it  would  be  a  quare 
thing  to  have  thunder  so  early  in  the  month. 

When  the  chapel-bound  party  had  gone  a  little 
way  beyond  the  hill,  they  met  Terence  Doyne 
coming  from  the  opposite  direction.  "  Is  it  home 
you're  goin',  Terence  ?"  said  his  sister  Stacey.  "  I'm 
glad  of  that  now,  for  you'll  be  company  to  mother, 
and  Matt's  away  off  somewheres  down  the  bog." 
For  Mrs.  Doyne  was  ailing,  and  Stacey  had  been 
divided  between  a  particularly  strong  wish  to 
attend  Mass  this  morning,  and  a  feeling  that  she 
ought  to  stay  and  keep  her  mother  heartened  up. 
She  now  walked  on  with  a  salved  conscience, 
though,  judging  by  Terence's  appearance,  one 
might  have  thought  him  likely  to  prove  rather  a 
wearing  companion,  his  look  being  as  of  one  who 
has  a  grievance  and  resents  it.  And,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  his  mother,  so  far  from  being  cheered   up 


172  IRJSH  IDYLLS. 

when  some  time  afterwards  he  stooped  in  at  her 
doorway,  felt  her  heart  gripped  again  by  a  tempo- 
rarily staved-off  dread.  She  had  supposed  him 
safely  on  his  way  to  Mass. 

Since  he  had  come  back,  however,  she  earnestly 
desired  him  to  remain  indoors,  and  she  made  con- 
versation perscveringly  under  the  discouragement 
of  brief  and  grumpy  replies.  She  hoped  she  was 
talking  him  into  good-humour,  until  he  suddenly 
glanced  round  the  shadow-hung  walls  and  said : 
"  There's  one  of  the  loys  took.     Where's  Matt  ?" 

"  Och,  away  outside  maybe — just  trapesin* 
about,"  said  Mrs.  Doyne  with  a  start.  "  And  so 
I  was  tellin'  you,  Judy  Ryan  sez  to  me  they  were 
half  through " 

"That  chap's  as  solid  as  a  gob  of  mud  when  he's 
took  a  notion  in  his  fool's  head,"  Terence  went  on 
disregard  fully  ;  "I  know  what  he's  after — cuttin' 
sods  in  the  bank  where  I've  tould  him  times  and 
agin  there  isn't  a  spade-load  of  good  slane  turf,  let 
alone  it's  bein'  twyst  as  far  to  carry  as  from  the 
place  I  was  shovvin'  them  yisterday."  He  turned 
towards  the  door,  but  his  mother,  whose  head  and 
hands  had  begun  to  tremble,  said  piteously :  "  Sure 
niver  mind  about  it  this  instiant,  Terence  avic  ; 
Where's  the  hurry?  What  were  we  sayin'  about 
the  Ryans  ?  It  was  somethin'  divartin'  enough,  I 
know,  on'y  it's  just  pa-^scd  out  of  me  head,  till   I 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  17.3 

remimber  it  in  another  minnit — wait  now — Terence 
honey,  would  you  fancy  a  bit  of  the  griddle-cake 
Mrs.  Kilfoyle  brought  me  ?  There  was  a  good  bit 
over  that  I  couldn't  ait  last  night,  and  I  put  it  away 
on  purpose  for  you  to  be  havin'  it.  Beautiful  whole- 
male  it  is,  she  was  sint  a  presint  of"  Our  mothers 
never  quite  believe  that  we  have  fully  outgrown  the 
lure  of  sugared  bread-and-butter,  or  the  like  ;  and 
perhaps  they  hold  a  not  altogether  ungrounded 
faith.  Then  as  Terence  was  striding  on  gracelessly 
past  this  offer,  she  said  :  **  Och  then,  stay  a  bit  wid 
me,  jewel  ;  sure  it's  lonesome  I  do  be,  and  Stacey 
away  all  the  mornin*,  and  niver  a  sowl  for  me  to 
pass  a  word  wid.  And  me  head's  bad.  Sure  you 
might  stop  in  a  while  when  I  ax  you." 

She  so  seldom  made  a  point-blank  appeal  for 
anything  on  her  own  behalf,  that  Terence  was 
impressed,  and  sat  down,  to  her  great  relief,  upon 
the  ledge  of  the  dresser,  which  jingled  all  its  jugs 
and  cups  every  time  he  swung  his  legs.  Further- 
more he  said,  "  Y'ould  toad,"  which  pleased  her 
vastly,  as  she  had  reason  to  consider  it  an  excellent 
sign  for  his  temper.  But  after  all,  when  she  was 
bieathing  freely,  and  thinking  of  topics  to  talk 
about,  he  jumped  up  as  if  something  had  stabbed 
him,  and  went  plunging  through  the  door,  before 
she  had  time  to  put  in  another  word  of  protest. 

His   moth.er  sat  looking   miserable  for  a  short 


174  IRISH  IDYLLS, 

time,  and  then  went  out  also,  and  a  little  way  up 
the  road  to  where  a  knot  of  neighbours  were 
gathered,  some  seated  in  the  dwindling  shadcw  of 
the  Sheridans'  walls,  and  some  in  the  broad  sun- 
shine on  the  top  of  the  dyke.  The  sky  was  still 
clear  and  deeply  ultramarine,  but  had  lost  its 
earlier  glistening,  as  of  suspended  dews,  and  looked 
sultry.  Low  down  on  its  southern  rim  the  jagged 
edge  of  a  dense  black  cloud  would  just  show  itself 
here  and  there  for  a  moment,  and  shrink  back  out 
of  ken.  You  might  have  fancied  some  huge  dark- 
hided  shape  lurking  there  in  ambush,  and  as  it 
prowled  to  and  fro,  ever  and  anon  inadvertently 
discovering  a  prickcd-up  ear  or  ridge  of  spine. 
About  the  Sheridans'  door  people  were  carrying 
on  a  conversation  leisurely  and  intermittently  ; 
perhaps  one  should  say  a  series  of  conversations, 
so  long  were  the  frequent  pauses.  The  flow  of 
their  discourse  quickened  into  animation  and  con- 
tinuity only  in  some  eddy  of  anecdote ;  as,  for 
example,  when  Ody  Rafferty  was  recounting  a 
fracas  which  had  taken  place  lately  somewhere 
between  down  below  and  down  beyant. 

"Pat  Martin  was  tcllin'  me,"  he  said,  "young 
Willy  MoUoy  and  another  young  fellow  from 
Drumesk,  be  the  name  of  Joyce,  were  after  havin' 
the  greatest  set-to  at  all  on  Tuesday  night  where 
they   were   workin'    for    Sullivan.       Ploughin'    for 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  175 

turnips  young  Molloy  was,  and  dhruv  over  as  tone 
in  the  furrow,  and  smashed  a  back-band  all  to 
flitterjigs  ;  whereby  Sullivan  came  along  and  gave 
him  dog's  abuse.  So  Molloy  ups  and  sez  Joyce 
had  a  right  to  ha'  seen  the  plough-harness  was 
sound  afore  they  went  out ;  and  Joyce  he  ups  and 
sez  the  harness  was  right  enough,  and  the  other 
had  no  call  to  be  forcin'  his  plough  over  such  a 
sizeable  lump  of  a  stone.  So  from  that  they  got 
to  bullyraggin'  and  bargin'  one  another  outrageous, 
till  the  end  of  it  was  they  fell  to  boxin'  on  the  road 
goin'  home  most  terrific.  And  young  Molloy  got 
the  other  chap  down,  and  Pat  sez  he'd  have  had 
him  choked  as  sure  as  there  was  breath  in  his  body, 
on'y  ould  Molly  Finny  caught  him  be  the  hind  leg, 
till  some  of  the  rest  of  them  pulled  him  off.  Och, 
he  said  it  was  a  great  fight  entirely." 

"The  on'y  wonder  is,"  said  Mrs.  Sheridan,  "that 
them  young  chaps  don't  do  slaughter  on  aich  other 
oftener  than  happens." 

"That  puts  me  in  mind  of  one  of  the  further- 
backest  things  I  remimber,"  said  Joe  Ryan,  old 
Mick's  youngest  brother.  "'Twas  as  long  ago  as 
when  I  wasn't  the  size  of  them  spalpeens  over  there 
—  Look  at  them  now  ;  sure  the  divil's  busy  wid 
them  ;  they're  draggin'  a  couple  of  chuckens  up 
and  down  the  street  in  their  mother's  saucepan  ; 
just  let  her  git  home  to  them.     Sure  I  dunno  what 


n(>  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

ould  ages  ago  it  mayn't  be,  for  it's  generations 
since  the  Macrans  quit  out  of  this,  and  it  was  the 
time  they  had  the  Ouigleys'  house.  But  I  mind 
the  son  Luke  one  Sunday  mornin'  comin'  up  here 
from  where  iver  he'd  been  ;  powerful  hot  weather 
it  was,  and  much  about  this  saison  of  the  year. 
And  when  he  come,  his  ould  father  and  sisters  and 
some  more  of  us  were  just  streelin'  about  the  place 
peimiscuous,  so  he  streeled  along  too,  and  nobody 
noticed  anythin'  oncommon.  Well,  we  were 
passin'  be  the  dyke  there  at  the  bottom  of  Mrs. 
M'Gurk's  field  of  pitaties,  and  in  one  corner  of  it 
there  was  a  great  blaze  like  of  red  poppies,  as 
there  may  be  this  present  instiant  for  that  matter. 
But  when  Luke  Macran  set  eyes  on  them,  he  let 
the  most  surprisin'  yell  you  iver  witnessed,  and 
grabbed  hould  of  his  father,  as  he  might  ha'  done 
and  he  scared  at  anythin'  afore  he  was  grown 
'  Lord  in  heaven,'  sez  he,  pointin'  afore  him,  *  what's 
that  there  ? '  '  Sure  what  else  'ud  it  be,  you 
gomeral,'  sez  one  of  the  girls,  '  excipt  a  clump  of 
poppies?'  'Troth,'  sez  he,  'I  dunno  what  I 
thought  it  was  at  all,'  and  began  laughin'  a  great 
horse-laugh,  as  if  he  was  thryin'  to  pass  it  off.  So 
we  walked  on  a  {q:\n  perches  till  we  come  where 
there  was  a  line  of  poppies  agin,  grovvin'  in  the 
long  grass  under  the  dyke  :  and  if  we  did,  Luke 
Macran  let  another  yell  out  of  him  you  might  have 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  177 

heard  in  Cork,  and  stood  starin'  wild.  Sez  he : 
'  The  divil's  done  that  on  me  ;  the  divil's  done  that 
on  me.  It's  on  this  road,  and  it's  all  along  the 
other  road — and  where  am  I  to  git  to  out  of  it  ? 
Where  am  I  to  git  to  at  all,  I  say?'  sez  he,  seemin' 
to  go  altogether  beyond  himself;  and  wid  that  he 
lep'  the  dyke — 'twas  just  there  at  the  road-corner 
— and  away  wid  him  out  over  the  bog  as  if  Hell 
was  let  loose  behind  him.  Faith,  he  whirrelled 
through  wet  and  dry  like  an  ould  rag  caught  in  a 
strong  wind.  Folk  thought  he  had  drink  taken. 
But  maybe  somethin'  better  than  half  an  hour  after 
he'd  gone,  the  polls  came  up  wid  word  there  was  a 
man  lyin'  under  a  bank  in  a  bit  o'  bog  Sallinbeg 
ways — on  Hilfirthy's  land  it  was — and  his  head  all 
battered  to  smithereens  wid  the  handle  of  an  ould 
graip ;  and  he  seen  alive  last  in  company  wid  Luke 
Macran — drinkin'  together  they  were  the  night 
before.  Och,  that  was  an  ugly  business  ;  nothin' 
'ud  suit  me  but  to  skyte  off  down  there  to  see  what 
I  could.  Howane'er,  the  misfortnit  bein'  niver  was 
took.  I  dunno  what  became  of  him  at  all,  and  his 
family.  Quite  dacint  poor  people  they  were,  on'y 
Luke  did  ahvax's  be  fiery-hot  in  his  temper.  Sure, 
I  daresay  you  might  remimber  it,  Judy ;  we're 
much  the  one  age." 

"  Bedad  do  I,"  said  Judy  ;  "it  had  slipped  hould 
of  me   recollections,    but   now   you  mintion   it    I 

1.3 


178  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

remimber  it  right  well.  But  it's  amisapperheiision 
to  say  nobody  noticed  aught  amiss  wid  him,  for 
the  first  instiant  he  came  you  might  aisy  see  he 
was  thrimblin'  head  and  fut  hke  a  horse  that's  after 
lakin'  a  fright,  and  his  eyes  were  that  wild — the  ' 
look  of  him's  as  clare  before  me  yit  as  if  he  was 
standin'  as  close  to  me  as  Mrs.  Doyne  is  now. 
Isn't  there  e'er  a  seat  in  it  for  you,  ma'am  ?  You 
don't  look  anyways  fit  to  be  standin'  about ;  'deed 
it's  mighty  indifferint  you're  lookin'  whativer.  Pat, 
set  the  ould  creepy  stool  for  Mrs.  Doyne." 

"  No,  thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Doyne,  "  I'm 
just  steppin'  in  to  spake  to  Mrs.  Kilfoyle.  'Tis  the 
hate  of  the  sun  discommodes  me ;  it's  blazin'  hot 
this  day." 

"  'Twon't  trouble  her  much  longer  then,  if  that's 
what  ails  her,"  said  Peter  Sheridan,  as  she  turned 
away  ;  "  'twill  be  black  out  on  us  afore  we're  five 
minyits  oulder.  There'll  be  little  enough  hate  left 
in  it  onst  it  gits  behind  that." 

"That"  was  an  enormous  blue-black  cloud-ram- 
part with  crenellated  summit  and  buttressed  base, 
which  had  reared  itself  almost  to  the  zenith  in  the 
north,  and  still  rose  steadily.  Livid  white  cloudlets 
scudded  across  its  dark  face,  and  here  and  there  a 
rift  let  in  a  background  of  coppery  glare.  "  Thun- 
der," everybody  said  or  thought  ;  and  straightway 
anxious  forebodings  about  potatoes  and  dutches 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  179 

of  eggs  mixed  in  many  minds  with  a  vaguer  dis- 
quietude. Lisconnel  is  seriously  alarmed  at 
thunderstorms.  "  It  might  pass  off  yit,"  Judy 
R)-an  said  hopefully.  "  That's  not  the  way  of  the 
win'.      What   trifle   there   is   does   be   southerly." 

"As  if,"  Peter  Sheridan  rejoined  ominously, 
"everybody  didn't  know  that  thunder  comes  up 
agin  the  win',  which  is  of  a  piece  wid  the  rest  of  its 
contrariness — and  bad  cess  to  the  same." 

Still,  the  sun  held  Mrs.  Doyne  in  a  scorching 
dazzle  all  the  way  to  the  Kilfoyles'  door,  so  that 
she  had  finished  thanking  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  kindly  for 
the  griddle-bread,  before  her  blinking  eyes  had 
caught  sight  of  the  little  old  woman  in  her  obscure 
corner.  Mrs.  Doyne,  a  down-hearted  person, 
whose  experience  of  life  had  not  been  calculated  to 
encourage  her,  was  always  very  capable  of  fears, 
which  she  sometimes  kept  to  herself  for  private 
brooding  over,  but  generally  sooner  or  later  com- 
municated to  a  sympathising  neighbour.  There- 
fore Mrs.  Kilfoyle  was  not  at  all  surprised  when 
her  visitor  now  sat  down  and  said  lamentably  : 
"  Me  heart's  broke."  This  is  our  customary 
formula  for  announcing  that  we  are  in  any  sort 
of  tribulation,  and  may  mean  nothing  serious. 

"  Are  you  findin'  yourself  took  worse  agin,  me 
dear?"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  commiscratingly. 

"  Ah  no,"  said  Mrs.  Doyne, "  it's  the  lads,  Terence 


i8o  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

and  Matt  ;  they  have  me  distracted.  I  dunno 
what's  come  over  them  this  while  back,  for  they 
always  lived  togither  as  frindly  as  a  pair  of  ould 
brogues,  but  now  there's  somcthin'  gone  agin  them. 
They're  that  cross  wid  one  another  'twould  dis- 
hearten you  to  see.  Niver  a  thing  Matt  can  do 
but  Terence  '11  find  fau't  wid  it,  and  they'll  bicker 
and  allegate  about  every  hand's  turn  ;  I  believe 
they'd  raise  an  argufyment  about  the  stars  in  the 
sky,  if  they  could  find  nothin'  else  handier  ;  and  I 
dunno  where  it'll  ind." 

"  Sure  most  people  do  be  contrary  that  way  now 
and  agin,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  consolingly,  "  and 
nobody  can  expect  young  lads  like  them  to  have  a 
scrumption  of  sinse." 

"  That's  where  it  is  ;  for  how  can  you  tell  what 
deminted  thing  they'll  be  apt  to  go  do  ?  Why 
sure,  if  one  of  them  lost  control  of  himself  for  an 
instiant  of  time,  he  might  be  hittin'  the  other  a 
crack  he'd  niver  git  the  better  of,  before  he  knew 
what  he  was  at.  Och,  the  dread  of  that's  niver  out 
of  me  mind,  when  they're  away  togither,  I  do  be 
liearin'  somebody  comin'  down  the  road  wid  the 
news  every  fut  that  stirs.  And  I  can't  sleep  at 
night  for  thinkin' of  it.  Often  I'm  wishin' the  day 
'ud  niver  come  round  agin  to  be  givin'  thim  a  chanst 
of  desthroyin'  one  another.  '  Let  it  keep  dark,'  s(;z 
I,  'for  there's  little  to  see  be  daylight  but  what 
one's  afeard  to  look  at'  " 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  i8i 

•*  Now  that's  the  talk  of  a  fool,"  said  Mrs.  Kil- 
foyle  with  candour,  "  but  my  opinion  is,  nobody's 
rightly  sinsible  in  the  nights.  The  notions  they'll 
take  in  their  heads  when  they're  lyin'  awake  are 
mostly  as  onraisonable  as  when  they're  dram  in' 
outright.  If  I  were  you,  Mrs.  Doyne,  ma'am,  I'd 
not  mind  a  thraneen  what  I  thought  in  the  nights, 
onless  it  was  as  a  pattron  for  thinkin'  somethin' 
dififrint  by  otherwhiles.  Faix,  if  some  one  was  kilt 
every  time  a  couple  of  people  were  onplisaiit  in 
their  tempers,  how  many  of  us  'ud  be  left 
alive?" 

"  It's  not  every  time,  it's  just  the  one  time  I  go  in 
dread  of,"  said  Mrs.  Doyne,  "  and  I  know  Matt's 
out  on  the  bog  cuttin'  turf  this  mornin',  and  before 
I  came  in  to  you  Terence  went  off  there  wid  himself 
too.  As  like  as  not  they'll  git  disputin'  about  some- 
thin',  and  the  wild  bog's  a  terrible  dangerous  place 
for  any  persons  to  be  quarrellin'  in,  among  all  them 
higeous  deep  bottomless  houles.  Sure  a  slip  or  a 
shove  might  sind  one  of  them  over  the  edge,  and 
they  tussellin'  about  convanient.  And  then  there 
do  be  the  loys  and  graips  lyin'  around — supposin' 
either  of  them  caught  up  such  a  thing  into  his  hand 
in  a  rage — och,  the  saints  shield  them  !  And  it's 
as  black  and  as  bitter  as  sut  Terence,  poor  crathur 
was  lookin'  when  I  last  set  eyes  on  him." 

"Talkin'  of  black,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  with  in- 


i82  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

tentional  inconsequence,  "  it  seems  to  me  growin' 
onnatural  dark." 

The  thickest  shadows,  indeed,  had  sto'en  forth 
from  all  the  room-corners,  emboldened  by  the 
abrupt  withdrawal  of  the  long  rays,  which  had  thrust 
a  wedge  of  glowing  gold  in  at  the  open  door,  and 
turned  Mrs.  Kilfoyle's  favourite  metallic  burnished 
jug  into  a  refulgent  star  where  it  hung  in  its  remote 
recess.  The  two  women  rose,  and  stood  looking 
out  on  a  great  gloom. 

People  who  have  never  seen  a  wide  sweep  of 
bogland  beneath  the  scowl  of  a  thunder-cloud, 
hardly  know  what  blackness  the  face  of  the  earth 
can  gather  at  noontide.  Nowhere  else,  one  ima- 
gines, does  mirk  swooping  from  overhead  so  mingle 
with  mirk  striking  up  from  underfoot,  for  the 
ground  seems  not  merely  to  passively  accept  the 
shadows  flung  down  upon  it,  but  to  reflect  them 
back,  as  water  reflects  sunshine.  The  grim  bog 
broadens  and  flattens  itself  under  the  louring  cloud- 
masses,  as  if  some  monstrous  weight  were  actually 
drawn  across  it,  and  their  blackness  is  thrown  into 
relief  by  lurid  gleams  ot  smoky  yellow.  To-day 
the  sullen  lustreless  glare,  as  from  the  lowe  of  some 
far-distant  furnace,  seemed  to  beat  against  the  dense 
vapour-screen  and  struggle  through  its  interstices 
with  an  evil-looking  glimmer. 

"  Wirra,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  "woman  alive,  did 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR  183 

j^ou  iver  behould  the  like  of  such  a  sky  as  that  ? 
It  might  be  a  loughful  of  coal-tar  boilin'  up  over  an 
ould  brass  pan.  The  Lord  be  good  to  us  this  day, 
but  there's  goin'  to  be  somethin'  beyant  the  beyant* 
entirely.  If  it  was  the  end  of  all  the  ages,  ii 
couldn't  look  more  onnatural." 

Mrs.  Doyne  was  ordinarily  much  more  afraid  of 
thunder-storms  than  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  who  had  a 
reassuring  theory  that  if  you  just  stayed  quite  in 
whatever  place  you  happened  to  be,  the  lightning 
would  know  where  you  were,  and  be  apt  to  keep 
out  of  your  way.  "  Liker,"  Ody  Rafferty  objected, 
"  a  mad  dog  that  won't  turn  out  of  the  road  he's 
started  runnin'  in  to  bite  you."  But  Mrs.  Kilfoyle 
said  it  was  all  one.  Lisconnel  is  decidedly  eclectic 
in  its  philosophical  explanations  of  natural  pheno- 
mena. On  this  occasion,  however,  Mrs.  Doyne's 
mind  had  been  preoccupied  by  an  an.xiety  that 
crowded  out  her  usual  panic,  and  when  she  strained 
her  gaze  over  the  expanse  of  gloom  before  her,  it 
wai  not  to  note  the  march  of  the  menaced  storm. 
"  Katty,"  she  said  to  a  little  Kilfoyle  who  stood 
near,  "  you  that  have  the  good  sight,  look  and  tell 
me  can  you  see  aught  movin'  yonder  on  the  bog." 
Katty 's  grey  eyes  were  PS  keen  ?.s  any  young 
hawk's,  and  she  a*:  once  replied  :  "  Matt  Doyne's 
cuttin'  turf  away  down  there,  and  his  brother's 
crossiii   over  to  where  he  is  ;  he's  just  after  leppin' 


1 84  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

a  bit  of  a  pool."  As  she  spoke,  a  faint  waft  of 
wind  came  panting  towards  them  out  of  the  breath- 
less hush,  and  made  all  the  taller  grass-tufts 
tremble.  "  Here  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  solemnly  ; 
but  nothing  followed  except  a  slight  puff  of  dust. 
Mrs.  Doyne  said  with  a  groan,  "  Och,  them  two 
lads ! » 

"  Sure  they'll  run  home  in  next  to  no  time  ;  nary 
a  harm  they'll  git.  Why,  gossoons  like  them  just 
put  down  their  heads  and  off  wid  them  skytin' 
across  all  before  them.  Eh,  but  it  doesn't  seem  so 
long,"  said  the  little  old  woman,  '  since  I'd  be 
doin'  the  same  meself  They're  not  like  you  and 
me,  that  must  be  liftin'  our  feet  over  aich  separate 
stick  or  stone  in  our  road  same  as  a  couple  of  ould 
hins.  Mercy  be  among  us,  woman  dear,  you're 
niver  goin'  after  them  in  the  face  of  that  ?  " — for 
Mrs.  Doyne  was  gathering  the  folds  of  her  ragged 
shawl  under  her  chin  with  her  left  hand,  which,  if 
you  wear  a  shawl  habitually,  means  that  you  are 
setting  out  somewhere.  •'  It's  not  a  right  thing  for 
you  to  be  doin'  at  all,  gittin'  yourself  drownded 
dead  for  nothin'  in  the  polthers  of  rain  we're  safe 
to  have  presintly,  if  there's  nought  worse  than 
polthers  comin'." 

"  Terence  was  mad,  I  know,  about  Matt  cuttin 
at  that  turf-bank,"  murmured  Mrs.  Doyne,  glancing 
nervously  at  the  darkest  cloud. 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  185 

"Git  out,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  "is  it  ra\-in' frantic 
you  suppose  them  to  be,  that  they'd  stop  there 
risin'  rows  about  turf-cuttin',  wid  the  noon-day 
turned  as  black  as  the  inside  of  an  ould  sut-bag 
before  their  eyes  ?  They'd  have  more — Whooo — 
goodness  save  and  dehver  us  all !  " 

A  vibrant  steely  glare  sawed  the  gloom  before 
their  faces  for  a  terrible  moment,  and  the  thunder- 
peal, almost  overtaking  it,  prolonged  their  affright 
through  a  sharp  rattle  and  bellowing  boom,  dying 
away  in  lumbering  rumbles  and  thuds.  "  Run  in, 
Katty,  run  in,  both  of  yous ! "  cried  Mrs.  Kilfoyle, 
vanishing  into  her  doorway.  But  Mrs.  Doyne 
darted  straight  across  the  road,  and  out  upon  the 
scowling  bog. 

She  went  in  mortal  fear.  Weak  as  she  was,  the 
mere  solitary  traversing  of  so  much  rough  un- 
sheltered ground  would  have  seemed  formidable  to 
her ;  but  now  if  the  swaying  cloud-bastions  had 
been  a  fort  sweeping  her  path  with  shot  and  shell 
until  the  torn  air  round  her  shrieked  death,  she 
could  not  have  found  it  harder  to  face.  Every  foot 
she  set  before  the  other  had  in  a  mental  debate 
been  turned  to  flee  ere  the  step  was  taken  forwards. 
As  she  walked  over  the  yielding  ling-stalks  and 
slippery  short  grass,  she  dared  not  lift  her  eyes  from 
the  ground  lest  they  should  meet  that  fearsome 
flickering  blaze.     It  came  again  and  again,  making 


l86  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

her  heart  stand  still  with  terror,  but  a  dread  within 
dread  still  drove  her  on,  muttering  broken  appeals 
to  all  the  powers  of  heaven.  Then  the  air  hissed, 
and  she  felt  hailstones  pelting  on  her  forehead  and 
hands,  and  presently  saw  them  gathering  in  white 
drifts  under  black  roots  and  banks,  and  sprinkling 
dark  spaces  of  bare  turf  Cold  blasts  came  with 
the  hail,  flapping  her  shawl  into  her  eyes  ;  they 
seemed  to  be  sulfocating  her,  yet  when  they  had 
blustered  by,  she  felt  as  if  they  had  taken  her 
breath  with  them.  She  could  hardly  tell  the  real 
thunder-claps  from  the  sounds  that  surged  and 
hummed  in  her  ears,  and  her  knees  began  to  give 
at  each  heavily  stumbling  step,  like  a  stalk  of 
meadow-grass  when  its  joint  knot  is  snapped. 
Worse  still,  a  sense  grew  upon  her  that  all  these 
things  had  happened  to  her  before,  an  uncanny 
feeling,  which  brings  desperation  with  it.  This 
sense  strengthened  suddenly  when  at  last,  coming, 
as  she  thought,  near  the  place  where  her  boys  had 
been  seen,  she  forced  herself  to  look  up,  and  at 
once  descried  them  through  the  hurtle  of  the  pelt- 
ing shower,  only  a  few  yards  distant — and  fighting. 
Terence  was  trying  to  wrest  a  spade  out  of  Matt's 
hand.  For  one  nightmare  moment  she  stood  spcll- 
stopped  ;  the  next,  she  was  endeavouring  wildly  to 
call  to  them,  but  she  believed  that  no  sound  passed 
her  lips.     Only  from  somewhere  far  off  in  the  dim- 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  187 

ness  a  strange  hoarse  voice  seemed  to  shriek  mean- 
inglessly.  And  before  she  could  struggle  on  again, 
floods  of  seething  darkness  rushed  in  upon  her  from 
all  sides,  and  swept  her  out  of  consciousness. 

Mrs.  Doyne  was  mistaken.  Her  cry  came  dis- 
tinctly to  her  sons,  and  stopped  their  scuffle  as 
effectually  as  if  they  had  been  separated  by  an 
explosion.  "  Was  that  mother  callin'?"  they  said 
simultaneously,  standing  with  dropped  arms  ;  and 
in  the  same  instant  they  saw  her  fall.  "  Oh,  my 
God !  oh,  my  God  !  she's  struck,"  Matt  shouted. 
Terence  was  speechless,  and  put  all  his  energies 
into  a  great  spring,  foiled  by  a  twisted  heather-root, 
which  tripped  him  up,  so  that  he  had  to  crawl 
dragging  a  useless  foot  after  him  to  the  place  where 
his  brother  had  forestalled  him  in  white-lipped  dis- 
traction. Neither  of  them  could  doubt  that  she  was 
dead,  but  Terence  yelled  to  Matt  to  run  home  for 
his  life  and  get  help  ;  and  Matt  fled  away  through 
a  blinding  blue  glare,  with  the  thunder-roll  tramp- 
ling after  him  overhead. 

Then  Terence  sat  down  on  a  low  grassy  ledge, 
and  said  to  his  mother :  "  Och,  you  bad  ould  one, 
what  made  you  go  for  to  be  stravadin'  about  the 
bog  this  sort  of  weather?  Sure  'twas  no  thing  to 
go  do.  But  I  daresay  you're  better  now  to  be  lyin' 
as  quite  as  you  can,  till  some  of  them  comes  to  lend 
you  a  hand  home  ;  for  you  see  I'm  after  wrenchin' 


i88  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Tie  fool  of  a  fut. — Did  you  say  anythin',  mother  ' 
What  was  you  sayin'  ?  Musha  now,  but  you're  the 
great  ould  villin  to  be  lettin'  on  there,  thinkin'  to 
tirrify  me.  Sure  I'm  always  tellin'  you  you're  no 
better  than  a  rael  downright  rogue,  wid  the  invin- 
lions  of  you.  Howsome'er,  maybe  all  the  same  I 
won't  let  the  hailstones  be  hoppin'  in  your  face. — 
The  divil  tear  me  that  I  wouldn't  stop  in  the  house 
wid  her  this  mornin'.  What's  gone  at  all  wid  Matt 
and  the  lads,  that  there's  ne'er  a  sign  of  them  comin' 
along? — Did  you  hear  that  clap,  mother?  Didn't 
you  then  ?  It  was  a  fine  one  intirely,  if  you'd  been 
listenin'.  But  you  needn't  be  mindin',  for  we'll  just 
help  you  home  out  of  it  in  next  to  no  time,  y'ould 
villin. — If  the  lads  iver  come." 

They  did  come  as  fast  as  they  could,  and  carried 
her  home  through  the  storm  to  her  black  little 
doorway,  which  seemed  as  much  to  her  present 
purpose  as  a  palace  of  marble  and  ivory.  Several 
people  set  out  in  quest  of  the  priest  and  the  doctor, 
and  Dan  O'Beirne,  whom  it  was  feared  they  would 
not  find,  he  being  supposed  absent  from  home,  and 
the  others  devoted  themselves  to  the  discussion  of 
the  case  in  all  its  bearings.  Little  else  remained 
for  them  to  do.  But  they  decided  that  Mrs.  Doyne, 
whatever  might  ha'  took  her,  had  not  been  struck 
by  lightning.  For  Ody  Raffeity  had  been  told  by 
a  farmer,  who  had  had  a  heifer  destroyed  in  that 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  189 

way,  that  the  crathur  was  all  blackened  on  one  side 
like  the  stem  of  a  burnt  furze-bush,  and  there  were 
no  signs  of  any  such  thing  on  Mrs.  Doyne.  It  was 
liker  parlissis.  Everybody  speculated,  too,  about 
*  what  she  could  ha'  been  doin'  out  there  on  the 
bog,  and  she  scarce  fit  to  go  the  lenth  of  her  own 
shadow" — everybody  except  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  who 
was  merciful,  and  said  sure  maybe  the  crathur. 
Heaven  help  her,  had  been  lookin'  for  one  of  the 
lads  to  run  on  an  errand  for  her. 

Terence,  unhappily  for  himself,  could  run  on  no 
errand  ;  and  he  had  sat  for  a  very  long  time  on  the 
dyke  near  his  door,  perforce  overhearing  the  neigh- 
bours determine  what  his  mother  had  died  of,  when 
Peg  Sheridan  limped  up  to  him  with  a  poor  scrap 
of  comfort.  Peg  has,  as  it  may  be  remembered,  a 
serious  trouble  of  her  own,  which  makes  her  neigh- 
bours' affairs  rather  insipid  to  her  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  so  that  she  is  not  generally  popular, 
since  sensitive  people  will  condone  many  deliberate 
sins  more  easily  than  the  unintentional  affront  of  a 
simple  friendly  indifference.  But  they  allow  that 
if  anything  off  the  common  ails  them,  there  is  no 
one  readier  than  Peg  to  do  them  any  good  turn  she 
can ;  the  presence  of  a  great  grief,  in  fact,  filling 
her  with  sympathy,  as  a  forgotten  rock-pool  is  filled 
when  a  wave  from  the  wide  sea  flaps  over  its  brim. 
She  came  towards  Terence  more  jerkily  than  usual, 


190  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

for  the  frequent  flashes  scared  her  as  much  as  any- 
body, and  comphcated  her  chronic  hobble  with 
queer  swerves  and  stai  tings  aside ;  and  she  said : 
"  Terence,  I  don't  bcHeve  she's  that  bad.  I  saw 
her  somethin'  the  same  way  one  day  last  harvest, 
when  she  had  Stacey  like  one  deminted,  but  niver  a 
die  on  her  that  time,  or  maybe  this  aither,  if  we 
could  git  Dan  O'Beirne  to  her  soon  enough." 

"  Peg,"  said  Terence,  looking  up  into  her  face, 
where  freckles  and  sunburn  had  not  found  much 
beauty  to  spoil,  "you're  the  jewel  of  the  world,  so 
you  are,  to  be  sayin'  it.  But  she's  gone — and  she 
was  axin'  me  to  stay  wid  her." 

That  day's  storm  raged  long  and  ranged  widely. 
It  met  a  detachment  of  the  Lisconnel  congrega- 
tion on  their  way  back  from  Mass,  and  so  daunted 
them  that  they  took  shelter  under  the  wall  of  Dan 
O'Beirne's  forge;  they  could  not  get  inside,  because 
the  place  was  all  shut  up,  and  he  had  gone  some- 
where, probably  on  shebeening  business.  Stacey 
Doyne  was  among  them,  somicwhat  out  of  spirits. 
Ilei  expedition  had  been,  on  the  whole,  a  dis- 
appointment. It  is  true  that  she  had  attended 
Mass,  which  was  what  she  thought  had  been  her 
object, and  }et — However,  it  certainly  was  no  affair 
of  hers,  nor  did  she  care  a  thrancen,  who  spoke 
to  the  Farrclly  girls  as  they  went  into  the  porch, 
or  who  was  not  there  to  give  her  "good  morning" 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR,  191 

when  she  came  out.  She  daresaid,  besides,  that 
she  looked  a  quare  ugly  ould  show  in  her  patched 
petticoat  and  torn  shawl,  and  considered  that  she 
would  probably  stay  at  home  next  Sunday. 

As  the  rain  long  continued  to  come  down   in 
gleaming  sheets,  which   the   other  women   would 
call  the  clearing  shower  and  just  wait  a  bit  to  see 
the  end  of,  she  grew  uneasy  about  her  mother,  who 
she  knew   would   be  fretting   herself  into   fiddle- 
strings,  and  perhaps  would   run    out   in   the  wet 
to  fill  the  pot,  and  get  her  death  of  cold  on  them, 
unless  she  was  too  badly  frighted  of  the  thunder. 
But  they  were  starting  at  last,  when  a  Duffclane 
lad  ran  against  them  as  they  came  round  the  angle 
of  the  forge  wall.     "  Is  Himself  in  it?"  he  shouted. 
"  Och  no,  I  was  sartin-sure  he  wasn't.    He's  wanted 
up  above.     I  met  young  Mick  Ryan  leggin'  it  over 
the  bog  about  Shanashcen  to  look  for  him.     And 
Stacey    Doyne's   wid    you — Och    Stacey,  it's    bad 
news    I'm  bringin'  you — och  your   poor  mother's 
distroyed,    girl    alive — burnt    black.     In    the   fire? 
Not  at  all — wid  the  awful  lightnin' — sthruck  down 
at  her  door,  and  burnt  to  a  cinder  in  an  instiant; 
One  of  the  young  chaps  was  sthruck  too — blinded 
— but  there's    life   in   him    yit,  and    I'm    goin'    to 
thry  can  I  git  Father  Rooney  to  him — I  must  be 
steppin'." 

Stacey  thought  at  first  that  when  she  had  run 


192  IRISH  IDYLLS, 

all  those  miles  home  without  stopping,  and  had 
found  her  mother  sitting  in  the  corner  by  the 
hearth  saying,  "  Child  of  grace,  what's  kep'  you  till 
this  time?"  she  would  stay  there  content  all  the 
rest  of  her  life,  and  never  again  put  herself  in  th2 
way  of  hearing  people  bawl  such  things  at  her. 
But  by  the  time  she  had  run  herself  out  of  breath, 
she  had  run  into  the  heart  of  a  blank  despair.  She 
walked  slower  then  and  slower  amid  the  unmean- 
ing murmur  of  eager  voices,  and  splashing  rain 
and  distant  thunder,  and  towards  the  end  of  their 
journey  she  lagged  so  that  the  other  girls  pulled 
her  along  between  them.  When  they  were  coming 
in  sight  of  their  knockawn,  somebody  exclaimed, 
"Why  look  you,  isn't  that  Dan  O'Beirne  himself 
and  young  Dan  on  the  top  of  the  hill?"  and  with 
that  they  all  made  a  rush  for  the  latest  news. 
Stacey  slipped  behind,  and  sat  down  under  a 
trickling,  lichened  boulder,  with  her  hands  over 
eyes  and  ears  to  crush  out  sights  and  sounds. 

She  sat  down  in  a  condemned  cell  of  misery, 
and  she  rose  to  her  feet,  if  one  must  not  say 
in  the  courts  of  Paradise,  at  any  rate  somewhere 
in  its  purlieus.  Because  young  Dan,  who  had 
pulled  away  her  hands  from  her  face,  was  still 
holding  her  wrist  and  cheerfully  saying:  "Sure 
she's  doin'  finely  now,  Stacey  dear ;  you've  no  need 
to  be  disthressin'  yourself  about  her.     She  wasn't 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  193 

too  bad  at  all.  'Tvvas  just  a  vvakeness  she  took, 
and  me  father  gave  her  some  01  his  stuff  done  her 
a  power  o'  good,  Stacey  jewel." 

The  very  skies  had  cleared  swiftly,  and  sent  a 
sheaf  of  long  westering  rays  to  kindle  the  rainbow 
fire  in  a  myriad  shimmering  drops. 

"  Ay,"  corroborated  the  elder  Dan,  "  she'll  be  as 
lively  as  a  grig  to-morrow,  plase  God.  Terence 
'11  be  longer  laid  up  wid  the  bit  of  a  vvranch  he's 
after  givin'  his  ankle." 

"Thank  you  kindly,  Dan;  sure  they  had  me 
annoyed,"  was  all  Stacey  said. 

"  VVhere'd  the  whoule  of  us  be  on'y  for  Dan  ?  " 
Said  the  widow  M'Gurk. 

Dan  O'Beirne,  the  blacksmith  and  shebeener,  is 
so  well  liked  by  his  neighbours,  that  they  all  are 
perfectly  certain  his  grandfather,  also  a  blacksmith, 
used  to  forge  pikeheads  in  the  troubles  of  '98.  His 
own  peculiar  source  of  pride  is  that  his  family 
belongs  to  the  O'Beirnes  of  Wicklow,  who,  as 
everybody  knows,  have  been  notorious  rebels  time 
out  of  mind.  But  that  his  popularity  does  not 
rest  upon  these  historical  bases  will  be  clear  to 
any  of  us  who  are  aware  how  many  miles  he  will 
tramp  unfee'd  to  visit  some  one  "  took  sick,"  with 
whom,  if  bad  enough,  he  thinks  it  a  small  matter 
to  sit  up  all  night.  His  broad  benevolent  forehead 
has  glimmered  like  a  lamp  of  hope  between  mud 

H 


194  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

floor  and  thatch  roof  through  many  a  dark  hour ; 
and  if,  as  not  seldom  happens,  all  the  light  flickcis 
out  when  the  day  is  dawning,  everybody  knows 
that  Dan  left  nothing  undone  that  lay  within  the 
compass  of  his  kindliness  and  skill. 

*'  Bedad,  if  Dan  O'Beirne  couldn't  keep  the 
breath  in  her  body,  the  Divil  himself  couldn't,  not 
if  the  one  was  her  sowl,  and  the  other  was  pur- 
gatory," Pat  Ryan  said  on  an  occasion  of  this 
sort,  using  a  figure  of  speech  which  perhaps  had 
more  appositeness  than  he  suspected. 

Dan's  merits,  scientific  and  moral,  are  indeed 
highly  rated,  not  only  absolutely  but  relatively, 
as  contrasted  with  those  of  Dr.  Ward  at  the 
dispensary  down  beyant,  whose  services  Lisconnel 
seeks  rarely,  and  generally  in  vain,  his  district 
being  a  world  too  wide  for  any  licensed  prac- 
titioner to  administer  single-handed,  however  swift 
his  rattle-trap  car,  and  however  brief  his  visits. 
When  he  proves  thus  unattainable,  people  remark  : 
"  Ah  well,  I  question  could  he  ha'  done  a  hap'orth 
of  good."  He  is  a  well-manin'  poor  man,  they 
say,  and  mightn't  make  such  a  bad  offer  at  it,  if  he 
wasn't  always  in  a  hurry,  and  would  take  time 
to  what  he  was  about.  But  it  stands  to  reason 
that  he  can't  know  rightly  what  he's  doing,  when 
he  won't  so  much  as  be  at  the  trouble  of  attending 
to  half  the  particulars  his  patients  give  him  about 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  1 95 

their  symptoms,  and  interrupts  them  in  the  middle, 
as  if  he  could  possibly  find  out  how  thf^y  were 
feeling  without  being  told.  As  for  his  medicines, 
they  have  no  strength  in  them  at  a.11 — Lisconn 
utterly  despises  any  physic  that  is  in  the  least 
endurable  either  in  taste  or  odour — or  if  he  does 
send  an  odd  bottle  that  smells  as  if  it  might  have 
some  good  in  it,  he  calls  it  a  Linyeejueni  and  is 
careful  to  stick  on  a  yellow  poison  label,  for  fear 
you  should  try  a  drop.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is 
plenty  of  strength  in  his  language,  if  by  chance  he 
attends  a  summons,  and  finds  the  invalid  in  a 
normal  state  of  health.  His  frame  of  mind  when 
such  a  contreteuips  takes  place  is  afterwards 
variously  described  as  "  ragin'  mad  " — "  as  cross 
as  the  dogs" — "fit  to  be  tied" — "on  his  hind  legs 
begob  " — and  so  forth.  "  As  if,"  Brian  Kilfoyle 
remarked,  "he'd  liefer  ha'  found  the  unlucky 
bosthoon  lyin'  on  the  broad  of  his  back  waitin' 
death  ;  or  as  if  it  worn't  as  simple  and  aisy  as 
anythin'  else  to  say,  '  The  divil  take  yous,'  and 
rowl  off  home  agin,  wid  no  trouble  perscribin' 
or  aught."  "  And  be  ped  for  it  too,  mind  you, 
handsome,"  appended  a  neighbour. 

This  is  in  striking  contrast  to  Dan  O'Beirne, 
who,  when  called  in  by  mistake,  will  say  quite 
plisant.  "  Sure  I'd  niver  be  wishful  to  see  you 
worser    anyways,"    or   declare    it    would    take    an 


196  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

M.D.  with  more  letters  than  he  had  to  his  name 
to  perceive  much  amiss,  which  gives  an  agreeably 
humorous  complexion  to  affairs.  And  Dan's 
medicines  are  undeniably  strong.  A  certain 
"corjil"  of  his  own  compounding  enjoys  a  very 
wide  local  reputation,  and  has  "  brought  round " 
dozens  and  scores  of  people.  If  questioned  about 
its  ingredients,  he  will  but  grin  blandly,  and  say 
something  of  the  nature  of,  "  Och  now,  that  'ud 
be  tellin' "  ;  however,  anybody  can  tell  that  it 
smells  aromatically  of  herbs.  My  own  opinion 
is  that  the  rest  of  it  consists  mainly  of  faith  and 
potheen,  though  in  what  proportions  they  are 
combined,  I  am  not  chemist  enough  to  discover. 

At  all  events  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  on  this 
thundery  Sunday  afternoon  a  sup  of  it  out  of  her 
thick  pink-and-white  delft  cup,  with  embossed 
coral-sprays  on  the  sides,  materially  helped  to 
restore  poor  Mrs.  Doyne,  who  began  to  feebly 
struggle  back  from  her  long  swoon  or  trance,  just 
as  Dan  and  his  son,  by  some  neatly-joined  pieces 
of  good  luck,  arrived  at  her  door.  So  rapidly  did 
she  revive,  that  he  was  soon  able  to  pronounce  her 
iligant  and  grand,  and  to  diagnose  her  case  as 
"  just  some  quare  turn  the  ugly  weather'd  been 
after  givin'  her.  But,  glory  be  to  goodness,  she'd 
find  herself  complately  the  better  of  it  by  to-morra 
or  next  day."     Outside  her  door,  however,  he  said 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  197 

with  emphasis :  "  Ay,  she'll  do  rightly.  But  she's 
wake  these  times,  the  poor  woman,  faible,  I  might 
say  ;  and  if  she's  torminted  wid  anythin',  or  gave 
frights  to,  or  botherationed  wid  folks  risin'  argyfy- 
ments  about  blathers  and  nonsinse,  theri's  no 
f.ayin'  but  she  might  be  slippin'  away  wid  herself 
suddint  on  yous,  one  of  these  fine  days.  She  just 
might,  and  so  I  tell  you  plainly;"  which  makes 
me  think  that  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  may  have  dropped 
him  a  hint.  Then,  when  Dan  had  prescribed  a 
stupe  of  marshmallovvs  for  Terence's  sprain,  his 
professional  duties  were  discharged,  and  he  was 
at  liberty  to  indulge  himself  and  his  neighbours 
with  mere  lively  conversation. 

It  really  seemed  as  if  the  electrical  condition  of 
the  atmosphere  must  have  given  a  fillip  to  the 
march  of  events  in  and  around  Lisconnel,  so  much 
more  than  usual  happened  thereabouts  on  that  day. 
"Who  do  you  think  are  after  makin' a  match  of 
it  .'' "  Dan  said  towards  the  end  of  his  budget  of 
news  ;  "  it  was  only  settled  this  mornin',  the  young 
chap  ;was  tellin'  me,  and  we  comin'  along.  Why, 
Maggie  Farrelly,  no  less,  and  a  farmer's  son  from  off 
one  of  the  Inishes,  a  young  man  of  the  name  of 
M'Grenaghan,  and  a  dacint  lad  I'm  tould.  If 
they're  the  people  I'm  supposin',  they  own  cows. 
Maybe  he's  got  no  great  prize  wid  her,  not  but 
what  she's  well-lookiii'  enough.     I'd  not  go  for  to 


198  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

say  anythin'  too  bad  agin  the  giil,  but  in  my 
opinion  she's  a  bit  of  a  rogue.  Over  fond  of 
keepin'  the  lads  fandanglin'  after  her,  to  be  makin' 
fools  of  them,  accordin'  as  she  may  fancy.  Och, 
very  belike  she  might  settle  down  now  that  shu's 
sorted  out  one  for  herself,  on'y  I'd  as  lief  as  not 
she'd  no  dalins  wid  any  belongins  of  mine.  D'you 
know,  a  while  ago  I  had  a  notion  she  was  thinkin' 
— where's  Dan  got  to  ?  Sure  is  that  him  above 
there  lookin'  out  over  the  road  i* — I'd  a  notion  she 
was  thinkin'  of  gittin'  round  him,  for  I  noticed  him 
goin'  about  wid  her  followin'  a  couple  of  times  or 
so.  But  he  swears  be  this  and  be  that  there  was 
ne'er  a  talk  of  any  such  a  thing  on  his  part.  'Twas 
a  frind  of  his  was  about  coortin'  her,  and  axed 
him  to  keep  around  and  be  slippin'  in  a  word  now 
and  agin  might  give  her  mind  a  sort  of  slant  to 
begin  wid.  That  was  foolish  enough  too,  in  all 
conscience,  to  be  for  slinkin'  in  on  another's  lad's 
tongue,  instead  of  spakin'  up  and  biddin'  the  girl 
to  take  him  or  lave  him  on  his  own  recomminda- 
tions.  Any  way,  the  end  of  the  matter  is  that 
she's  sacked  her  ould  sweethearts,  ivery  man  jack 
of  them,  and  took  up  wid  this  one,  she  hadn't  set 
eyes  on,  they  say,  a  couple  of  weeks  since." 

•'  Musha  then,  ould  Horny  himself  might  take 
Mag  Farrelly  and  welcome,  for  me,"  said  Terence 
Doyne,  who  was  so  exhilarated   by  the  reaction  of 


THUNDER  IN  \^HE  AIR.  199 

his  escape  from  despair  to  security,  that  it  was  all 
his  lamed  foot  could  do  to  keep  him  from  dancing. 

"Or  for  me,"  said  his  brother  Matt,  who  also  felt 
at  peace  with  all  the  world,  "  and  the  whoule  lot  of 
ihem  into  the  bargain.  They're  mostly  more  bother 
than  they're  worth — a  dale.  I'll  go  and  be  gittin' 
some  of  the  mallow  for  his  fut,  and  Stacey  can 
give  it  a  boil  when  she  comes  home.  She'll  be 
here  directly." 

"  Whethen  Maggie  Farrelly,  indeed  !"  said  Judy 
Ryan,  who  had  as  she  said  herself,  "  no  opinion," 
by  which  she  meant  a  bad  one,  of  the  bride-elect. 
"Cock  her  up  wid  a  fine  young  man  like  your  son 
Dan  !  He's  got  more  wit  than  to  look  the  side  of 
road  she  is,  I'll  go  bail.  There's  not  one  of  those 
Farrellys  I'd  give  you  the  black  of  me  eye  for  ;  a 
slutherin',  deceptionable  set." 

Soon  after  this,  the  elder  Dan  joined  his  son 
upon  the  hill,  and  they  fared  homewards,  presently 
falling  in,  as  we  have  seen,  with  a  party  of  friends. 
It  would,  indeed,  have  been  rather  inhuman  to 
keep  Stacey  Doyne  so  long  upon  the  road  as  I 
have  done,  were  it  not  that  she  was  all  the  while  in 
Paradise,  where  people  overlook  such  trivialities  as 
being  wet  through  and  tired  out  with  a  many  miles' 
tramp,  and  having  had  nothing  to  eat  for  nearly  a 
round  of  the  clock. 

"And  how  at  all  did  you  hear  tell  of  it,  Dan." 


200  IRISH  IDYLLS, 

inquired  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  "  when  nobody  had  an  idea 
where  to  be  lookin'  for  you,  and  one's  liker  to  lose 
one's  self  than  to  find  any  one  else  around  on  the 
bog,  if  one  goes  chancin'  it  ?  " 

"'Twas  the  young  chap,"  said  Dan,  pointing  to 
his  son  ;  "  he  met  wid  a  couple  of  spalpeens 
inquirin'  for  n  e  not  far  from  our  place,  and  he 
happint  to  know  I  was  gone  Loughgaula  ways  to 
spake  to  a  man,  so  he  legged  it  after  me  there,  but 
I'd  quit  out  of  that  afore  he  came,  and  then  he 
follied  me  on  to  Brosnakill,  where  he  got  me.  So 
he's  had  great  runnin'  over  the  counthry  this  day, 
the  young  rapscallion." 

"  Troth,"  said  young  Dan,  "  I'd  run  twyst  that 
far  for  Stacey  Doyne  any  day  of  the  year,  or  for 
any  one  belongin'  to  her.     And  she  knows  it." 

No  declaration  could,  according  to  Lisconnel 
canons,  have  been  more  explicitly  worded.  It 
startled  them  all  severely,  young  Dan  himself  not 
excepted.  If  Stacey  had  shown  herself  by  any 
means  equal  to  the  occasion,  she  would  at  least 
have  responded  :  "  Know  it,  sez  he !  Bedad  and 
indeed  it's  himself  has  the  wonerful  notions  about 
what  I  may  happin  to  know.  Sure  he's  just 
talkin'  foolish."  But  she  was  taken  somewhat  at 
a  disadvantage,  and  in  fact  said  nothing  at  all. 

"  Tare-an-ages  !  "  said  Dan's  father,  "  and  is  that 
the  way  of  the  win'  with  you?     Well  tubbe  sure, 


THUNDER  IN  THE  AIR.  20i 

but  ther's  no  bein'  up  to  the  likes  of  you.     Begor- 
rah,  I  miglit  ha'  known  he'd  sometliiii'  in  his  head 
when  he  was  runnin'  me  off  of  me  misfortnit  ould 
legs  all   the  way   over   from  yonder  to    here   this 
mornin'.     I'd  as  lief  ha'  been  in  leadin'  strings  to 
an  unruly  bullock.     Not  that  I'm  denyin'  he  might 
aisy  ha'  took  up  wid  some  one  worsen     There's  no 
dacinter  people    on   this    counthry  side    than    the 
Doynes,   and     little    Stacey — Howan-e'er     Mrs. 
M'Gurk,  we  that  have  the  wit  are  to  be  pitied  now, 
aren't  we  ?  wid  them  young  gomerals — the  crathurs." 
Old   Dan's   chagrin  was  about  half  earnest,   his 
inordinate  pride  in  his  handsome   son   compelling 
him    to   think    but  poorly  of  anybody  considered 
as  a  possible   daughter-in-law,  while   his   general 
philanthropy  disposed   him   to   make  the  best    of 
everybody  that  came  in  his  way,  none  the  less  when 
appearing  in  the  shape  of  a  pretty,  pleasant-spoken 
slip  of  a  colleen,  with  whom  he  had  been  acquainted 
ever  since  she  was  big  enough  to  crawl  out  of  her 
door   at  him  as  he   passed.     The  result    of  these 
conflicting  tendencies  here  was  a  vacillation  between 
censoriousness  and  indulgence,  which  made  it  diffi- 
cult for  him  to  preserve  a  consistent  demeanour. 
*'  I'll   tell  you  one  thing,  and  that's  not  two,"  he 
said,  with  a  sudden  access  of  resolution  caused  by  a 
glance  around  him,  "  we'd  better  all  of  us  be  steppin' 
home,  if  we've  had  enough  of  dhrownding  to  satisfy 


202  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

us  for  this  day.  The  sky's  cloudin'  over  agin,  Hke 
as  if  the  storm  might  be  plannin'  to  give  us 
another  bout.  Begob  now,  Dan,  there's  no  call  for 
you  to  be  seein'  Stacey  over  the  hill.  The  child's 
in  a  hurry  to  run  home  to  her  mother,  and  you'd 
just  delay  her.  Forby,  don't  I  know  as  well  as  if 
I  was  inside  you,  that  you'll  be  takin'  off  wid  your- 
self over  here  the  first  thing  to-morra  ;  so  where's 
the  sinse  of  bidin'  for  a  wettin'  to-night?  There's 
a  sun-dog  over  yonder  agin  that  black  cloud,  and 
look  at  them  crathurs  crawl  in',  you  may  say,  on 
their  wings  ;  there's  nary  a  surer  sign  of  rain." 

The  swallows,  "  preying  towards  storms,"  were 
indeed  flying  very  low,  sweeping  in  such  immense 
circles  that  their  return  seemed  as  problematical  as 
the  re-appearance  of  a  periodic  comet.  Darkly 
piled  up  cloud-masses  still  hovered  and  drifted, 
spreading  deep  purple  shadows  over  the  bog, 
gloom  folded  on  gloom,  ready  to  league  with  the 
gathering  twilight.  But  just  as  Stacey  turned  to 
run  home,  the  sun,  now  dropped  very  far  down  in 
the  west,  found  a  little  round  hole  in  a  grim  black 
wall,  and  through  it  flashed  up  obliquely  a  jet  oi 
golden-amber  fire,  broadening  fanwise  sheer  across 
the  sky.  It  set  all  the  raindrops  twinkling,  where 
every  leaf  and  blade  had  its  drop  ;  and  it  glistened 
and  shimmered  in  many  a  brimming  pool.  Speed- 
ing down  the  hill,  Stacey  felt  as  if  she  were  flying 


THUNDER  JN  THE  AIR.  203 

into  an  enchanted,  dazzling  sort  of  world  on  new 
and  wonderful  wings.  A  neighbour  of  hers,  how- 
ever, who  was  sedately  going  the  same  way, 
observ^ed  :  "  It  looks  bad  for  the  weather  when  the 
sun  makes  a  chimney  like  yon  ;  we'll  be  apt  to  have 
a  wet  night."  And  another  replied:  "I  doubt 
we're  not  done  wid  the  thunder  yit" 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

BETWEEN    TWO    LADY    DAYS. 

The  Lady  Day  in  harvest,  which  fell  six  weeks  or 
so  after  that  electrical  July  Sunday,  was  splendidly 
fine  in  Lisconnel,  steeped  through  and  through 
with  ripe  August  sunshine,  and  unruffled  by  any 
restless  breeze.  Its  serene  beauty  jarred  upon 
Stacey  Doyne's  mood,  and,  though  she  did  not 
guess,  helped  to  make  the  lag-foot  hours  halt  by 
more  slowly  and  heavily.  But  she  was  keenlier 
alive  to  a  sense  of  aggravating  circumstances  when, 
at  an  early  period  of  the  morning,  it  became 
evident  that  Mad  Bell,  seized  by  one  of  her 
irresistible  lyrical  frenzies,  had  been  driven  to 
establish  herself  on  a  sun-smitten  bank  near  her 
door,  whence  her  shrill  singing  resounded  far  and 
wide.  What  she  sang  loudest  and  longest  was  a 
favourite  ditty  beginning : 

*'  Before  I  was  married,  I  used  to  dhrink  tay, 
Bui  since  I  am  married,  'tis  buttermilk-whey  ; 
Before  I  was  married,  I  sat  in  the  parlour, 
But  since  I  am  married,  'lis  in  the  ash-corner." 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DA  YS.  205 

A  wish  to  escape  beyond  the  range  of  that  oft- 
repeated  air  led  Staccy  to  ramble  away  further  than 
she  otherwise  would  have  done  over  the  heatheiy 
crests  of  the  knockavvn,  where  the  sombre  ruddy 
bloom  against  the  black  peat-mould  suggested  the 
smouldering  and  charring  of  half-extinguished 
embers,  until  at  last  she  sat  down  on  a  boulder 
between  two  sheltering  clumps  of  broom  and  furze, 
which  made  her  a  low-roofed  bovver.  Here  Mad 
Bell  was  too  far  off  for  the  tune  or  words  ;  only  a 
faint  skirl  came  fitfully,  borne  upon  a  flagging 
breeze,  scarcely  "  a  trace,"  as  chemists  say,  upon 
the  surrounding  atmosphere  of  stillness.  Nothing 
else  broke  it  either  with  motion  or  sound,  except 
when,  ever  and  anon,  a  flight  of  little  wild  birds  got 
up  suddenly  in  the  distance,  like  a  handful  of  dust 
tossed  into  the  air,  and  when  a  curlew  cried 
plaintively  across  the  bog,  a  cunning  tone-poet, 
who  can  set  a  whole  landscape  to  melancholy  in 
one  quick  chromatic  phrase. 

Stacey  wanted,  indeed,  no  external  incitements 
to  sadness,  having  at  present  ample  grounds  for  it 
in  her  own  situation  and  reflections.  This  radiant 
summer  morning,  with  its  arch  of  moteless  sapphire 
and  high-tides  of  unstinted  shining,  should  have 
ushered  in  her  wedding-day.  It  had  all  been 
arranged  weeks  ago — ages  ago  it  seemed  to  her 
now — for  the  elder  Dan's  dissatisfaction  with  his 


2o6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

son's  choice  had  mehed  away  rapidly  and  com- 
pletely. In  point  of  fact,  on  that  very  eventful 
Sunday  evening,  when  the  matter  first  came  to 
light,  the  two  O'Beirnes  had  on  their  homeward  way 
met  the  Cross  Priest  posting  up  to  Lisconnel  in 
obedience  to  a  tragical  summons,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  explanations  which  ensued,  the  good  natured 
blacksmith  betrayed  himself  into  tacitly  withdraw- 
ing any  meditated  opposition  to  the  match. 

"  So,  your  Riverence,  there's  little  signs  of  a 
buryin'  over  this  business  at  all,  at  all,"  said  he, 
"  but  I  wouldn't  say  as  much  consarnin'  a  weddin'. 
Troth  no  I'd  not.  For  to  tell  your  Riverence  the 
tiuth,  it's  my  belief  that  young  gomeral  there  has 
a  notion — himself  and  little  Stacey  Doyne — to  be 
troublin'  you,  or  Father  Rooney — long  life  to  him 
--one  of  these  days.  Och  begorrah,  that's  the 
worth  of  the  likes  of  them  " — Dan  privately  thought 
that  the  three  kingdoms  would  have  been  "  put  to 
it  "  to  produce  the  likes  of  his  son — "what  better 
need  you  expec'  ?  " 

Father  Carroll  was  humane  enough  to  hear  with 
relief  that,  after  all,  none  of  his  parishioners  had 
been  burnt  alive  or  blinded,  and  he  naturally  re- 
joiced at  the  abridgment  of  his  long  late  ride.  So 
he  received  the  news  more  genially  than  usual,  and 
as  he  turned  his  horse's  willing  head,  he  shook  his 
whip-handle    jocularly    at    young    Dan,    saying: 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  207 

"  Indeed  now,  O'Beirne,  I  wouldn't  put  it  past 
them,' the  pair  of  them.  But  if  you're  for  setting 
up  a  wife,  Dan,  you'll  have  to  be  steady,  and  stick 
to  your  work,  and  mind  what  you're  about.  Clap 
on  your  blinkers,  me  lad,  and  keep  the  road 
straight  before  you,  or  you'll  land  more  th^n  your- 
self in  the  ditch." 

Dan,  who  looked  very  unwontedly  sheepish, 
kicked  a  lump  of  turf  in  front  of  him  further  than 
his  own  shadow,  which  stretched  a  long  way  dis- 
tortedly  through  the  beams  of  the  rising  moon,  as 
he  answered:  "Och,  sure  me  father  wouldn't  git 
his  health  if  he  didn't  be  talkin',  so  he  wouldn't. 
Be  the  hoky,  it's  a  won'erful  man  he  is  for  romancin' 
intirely." 

After  this,  the  current  of  the  young  couple's 
affairs,  so  far  as  they  stood  upon  the  choice  of 
friends,  was  practically  unimpeded  ;  and  their 
wooing  undoubtedly  deserved  the  benison  pro- 
nounced on  those  which  are  conducted  with 
despatch.  But  the  edict  of  destiny  fulfils  itself  in 
many  ways.  At  the  time  when  young  Dan  entered 
into  his  engagement  with  Stacey  Doyne,  he  had  a 
])rior  one  on  hand,  which  his  new  tie  did  not  dis- 
pose, or  rather  forbade,  him  to  break.  This  was  a 
journey  all  the  way  up  to  the  county  Antrim,  where 
a  friend  of  his  held  out  prospects  of  a  four  weeks' 
job  at  a  compressed  peat  manufactory,  the  manager 


2o8  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

o(  which  found  labour  scarce  in  those  harvesting 
days.  Now  young  Dan  O'Beirne  being  not  only 
stiong  and  stalwart,  but  endo\i^ed  with  an  intuitive 
gift  for  understanding  the  "  quareness  "  of  all  sorts 
of  machinery,  Thomas  M'Crum,  the  northerner, 
who  had  himself  got  the  promise  .  f  work  up  there, 
made  no  manner  of  doubt  that  so  desirable  a  hand 
would  find  at  all  events  temporary  employment, 
and  a  scale  of  remuneration  which  sounded  pro- 
digious in  the  ears  of  Lisconnel.  Dan's  contem- 
plated marriage  rendered  the  acquisition  of  a  little 
ready-money  in  a  high  degree  expedient,  if  not 
absolutely  necessary  ;  for  his  father's  philanthropy 
was  of  an  humble  personal  kind,  never  known  to 
enrich  or  in  any  way  aggrandise  the  family  in 
which  it  runs,  and  the  O'Beirnes.  despite  forge  and 
shebeen,  were  hardly  better  off  than  their  struggling 
neighbours.  Given  a  pound  or  two  in  hand  for  the 
purchase  of  "  a  few  odd  sticks  of  things,"  and  the 
rent  of  a  cabin  down  below,  Dan  and  Stacey  could 
start  housekeeping  with  light  hearts ;  failing  that, the 
match  would  beheld  imprudent  even  by  people  who 
entertained  the  most  moderate  views  about  mar- 
riage settlements.  So  Dan  went  off  one  morning, 
confident  of  returning  with  at  least  that  sum  a  clear 
fortnight  before  Lady  Day,  which  had  been  fixed 
for  the  wedding. 

Stacey  had  plenty  to  distract  her  mind  during 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DA  YS.  209 

his  absence.  There  was  the  trousseau,  for  one  thing. 
Hei  mother  sold  their  pig  prematurely,  at  some- 
what of  a  sacrifice,  that  she  might  be  able  to  buy  a 
sufficiency  of  hideous  strong  brown  wincey  for  a 
body  and  a  skirt.  These  two  articles  of  clothing 
are  seldom  simultaneously  acquired  in  Lisconnel. 
And  when,  in  the  course  of  the  negotiations  at  his 
shop  in  the  Town,  Mr.  Corr  learned  the  purpose  for 
which  the  stuff  was  required,  he  added  gratis  some 
yards  of  the  stoutest  grey  holland  in  his  stock  to 
make  Stacey  a  couple  of  large  aprons — praskeens 
she  called  them.  Whereupon  Lisconnel  opined 
that  Mr.  Corr  always  was  a  kind-hearted  poor 
man.  Then  the  wedding  itself  furnished  a  theme 
for  endless  planning  and  dis:ussion,  especially 
when  Farmer  Hilfirthy,  down  below,  actually  pro- 
mised the  loan  of  his  jaunting-car  to  meet  the 
bridal  party  at  Classon's  Boreen,  half-way  to  the 
chapel.  Stacey  had  never  in  her  life  been  on  a 
car  or  any  other  vehicle,  and  the  prospect  of  the 
drive  evidently  heightened  more  than  one  would 
have  imagined,  her  sense  of  the  solemnity  and 
importance  of  the  whole  ceremony. 

Thus  the  days  bustled  on  blithely  enough,  bur- 
nished up  for  her  by  the  gleams  of  a  happy  hour 
which  she  knew  came  stealing  towards  her.  Yet 
when  it  arrived,  it  proved  to  be  the  turning-point 
whence  all  her  fortunes  began  to  wane  through  a 

15 


2IO  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

twilight  of  doubt  and  despondency  to  an  ever 
deepening  despair.  Dan  did  not  reappear  on  the 
day  when  he  was  expecied.  Stacey,  in  her 
{(ignorance,  felt  not  a  little  aggrieved  at  the  delay, 
although  she  was  quite  sure  that  the  next  morning 
would  bring  him.  Twelve  hours  seem  a  vast  void 
of  time,  when  you  have  already  begun  to  count 
your  intervening  minutes  one  by  one.  But  after 
two  or  three  more  days  had  trailed  immeasurably 
by,  she  would  have  been  humbly  thankful  for  an 
assurance  that  she  would  see  him  again  within  a 
twelvemonth.  So  quickly  may  we  learn  to  abate 
our  claims  upon  good  fortune. 

It  wanted  just  a  week  of  the  wedding-day,  when 
a  man  casually  observed  to  Stacey 's  brother  Matt, 
as  they  were  hooding  stooks  below  at  Hilfirthy's, 
that  he  had  seen  Dan  O'Beirne  going  on  board  the 
Stranraer  steamer  up  at  Larne,  shortly  before  he 
had  himself  returned  to  Lisconnel.  The  poor  little 
bride-elect  put  a  brave  face  on  the  matter  when 
the  news  was  communicated  to  her,  and  said  cheer- 
fully that  Dan  would  be  apt  to  be  writing  to 
explain  the  way  of  it.  But  in  truth  her  heart  sank 
down  and  down,  and  she  felt  a  miserable  convic- 
tion that  no  letter  was  coming.  Soon,  too,  she 
knew — though  they  said,  "  Shoo- whisht  woman," 
and  broke  off  when  she  came  near — how  the  neigh- 
bours were  often  standing  in  knots  and  saying  it 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  21 1 

had  a  bad  appearance,  his  sh'pping  off  out  of  the 
country  that  fashion,  without  a  word  to  anybody  ; 
it  looked  Hke  as  if  he  had  a  notion  of  running  away 
from  the  match.  The  sight  of  those  shawled  heads 
bobbing  together  over  her  fate  chilled  Stacey  with 
despair  at  times,  and  at  others  stung  her  with  a 
wrathful  pang,  under  which  she  could  almost  have 
found  it  in  her  heart  to  break  up  their  conclave 
violently,  accusing  them  to  their  faces  of  telling  lies 
and  talking  blathers  and  nonsense.  But  she  always 
stopped  short  of  any  such  strong  measures,  quailing 
before  her  consciousness  that  her  life  was  being 
overcast  by  a  great  black  cloud,  in  the  coming  on 
of  which  this  gossips'  gabble  seemed  merely  a 
trivial  fringe  of  shadow  ;  and  the  one  discourtesy 
she  used  was  to  shrink  away  from  all  occasions  of 
discourse,  either  sitting  mute  in  a  retired  recess  of 
the  dark  cabin-room,  or  roaming  off  into  the  bog, 
where  the  solitude  and  silence  toned  dov/n  the 
brightness  of  the  clear  careless  skies  and  made  it 
more  endurable. 

In  this  way  it  came  about  that  the  blue-vaulted 
forenoon,  which  by  rights  should  have  seen  her 
conversion  into  Mrs.  Daniel  O'Bcirne,  was  spent  by 
Stacey  in  solitary  forlornness,  crouched  among  the 
sad-green  furzes — "  mindin'  th'  ould  goat  "  was  how 
she  described  her  occupation  to  her  neighbours — 
and  that  a  few  hours  later  found  her  standing  up 


212  IRISH  ID  YLLa. 

uncomforted  on  the  ridge,  turning  mournful  grey 
eyes  listlessly  towards  the  rose  and  daffodil  sunset, 
before  she  crept  home  through  the  gloaming,  lit  by 
no  brighter  hope  than  the  prospect  of  sleepily  for- 
getting her  troubles  until  to-morrow.  Days  such 
as  this  came  to  her  in  a  sequence.  For  amid  the 
mellow  sunshine  of  the  late-summer  weather,  which 
was  transmuting  the  grain-fields  to  roughened  gold, 
and  staining  the  brier-leaves  with  bronze  and 
crimson,  and  bringing  out  the  dim  purplish  bloom 
on  all  the  wild  dark  berries — dewberries  and 
frawns  and  sloes — and  even  finishing  off  the  little 
grey  lichen-cups  with  red  sealing-wax  rims,  Stacey's 
hopes  were  shrivelling  up  and  withering  away.  She 
did  not  rea'ly  try  to  blind  herself,  whatever  mien 
she  would  fain  have  confronted  her  world  with 
Each  blank  morning,  and  each  cheerless  evening, 
heard  her  paraphrase:  "Even  here  I  will  put  off 
my  hope  and  keep  it  no  longer  for  my  flatterer  ; " 
most  piteous  of  vows,  not  oftener  made  than 
broken.  After  a  few  weeks  had  passed,  she  used 
to  pray  to  her  saints  that  she  might  not  know  of 
anybody  going  down  to  the  Town,  because  she 
could  not  avoid  the  bitter  moment  of  watching 
him  return  without  letter  or  tidings. 

Yet  Stacey,  sad  as  was  her  plight,  should  not 
monopolise  our  sympathy.  Young  Dan's  unac- 
countable    non-appearance     flung     a    portentous 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  213 

shadow  across  his  father's  horizon.  He  was  slower 
than  the  girl  to  take  the  alarm,  his  wider  experi- 
ence suggesting  a  larger  variety  of  harmless  con- 
tingencies ;  but  when  once  fear  got  firm  hold  of 
him,  it  gripped  him  with  a  hardly  less  agonising 
rigour.  If  "  anythin' misfortnit  had  took  and  hap- 
pint"  his  big  handsome  son,  the  light  of  his  eyes 
had  been  put  out ;  but  if  the  truth  were  that  the 
lad  had  played  a  villain's  trick  on  them,  had  given 
the  lie  to  his  hand-promise,  and  run  off  from  them, 
leaving  the  girl  to  break  her  heart,  why  then  old 
Dan  was  doubly  bereft,  both  of  trust  and  hope. 
Moreover,  his  distress  was  complicated  by  a  feeling 
of  compunction  and  responsibility  towards  Stacey 
and  her  family,  which  made  the  sight  of  them  pain- 
ful to  him,  and  still  forbade  him  to  keep  out  of 
their  way. 

"  'Tisn't  the  lad's  own  fau't,  that's  sartin,"  he  said 
one  late  November  day,  sitting  on  an  old  potato- 
creel  by  Mrs.  Doyne's  fire.  "If  I  know  the  differ 
between  porther  and  potheen,  he'd  no  more  go  for 
to  do  us  a  turn  like  that,  except  agin  his  will,  than 
he'd  reive  the  eyes  out  of  his  head.  There's  some- 
thin'  gone  amiss  wid  him  that  we  haven't  heard  tell 
of." 

"  True  for  you,  Dan,"  said  Mrs.  Doyne,  re- 
signedly ;  "  I  put  it  on  them  ould  steamboats 
meself  ;  there's  nothin'  more  dangerous.     Sure  the 


214  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

on'y  time  I  iver  made  free  wid  one  of  them,  a 
matter  of  twinty  year  back,  away  down  at  Loutjh 
Corrib,  I  came  as  nigh  losin'  me  life  as  y^u  could 
think — set  me  fut  over  the  edge  of  the  bit  o'  plank 
they'd  laid  down  for  the  people  to  step  on  board 
by,  and  in  the  black  wather  I'd  ha'  been  on'y  poor 
Mick  grabbed  a-hould  of  me.  And  sure  if  Dan 
done  such  a  thing,  and  he  travellin'  the  deep  says, 
let  alone  a  lough,  what  chanst  'ud  he  have  but  goin' 
to  the  bottom?  Or  where's  the  use  of  the  talk 
they  keep  of  his  send  in'  word  in  letters,  and  he  all 
the  while  lyin'  dhrownded  dead — the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  his  sowl." 

"  Och  then,  goodness  guide  you,  Mrs.  Doyne, 
woman,  but  d'you  think  the  lad's  a  born  nathural 
that  he's  not  got  the  wit  to  step  the  lenth  of  a  bit 
of  a  gangway  widout  blundherin'  overboard  like  an 
ould  blind  horse?  Troth,  it's  a  quare  thing  if  a 
young  man  can't  take  a  taste  of  divarsion  for  wunst 
in  a  way,  but  iverybody  must  settle  to  murdhcr 
him  behind  his  back." 

"  Some  of  them  do  s£.y  'twas  that  Maggie 
Farrelly  he'd  his  mind  set  on  all  the  while,  and 
he's  took  off  out  of  this  liefer  than  contint  himself 
wid  any  one  else.  It's  no  credit  to  him  to  sarve  us 
that  way.  And  the  dacint  lad  he  seemed,  and  the 
hape  he  thought  of  Stacey.  Bedad,  he  wouldn't 
have  given  her  for  his  pick  of  the  stars  out  of  the 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  215 

sky,  if  you  were  to  believe  him.  I'd  niver  ha'  sup- 
posed it  of  him,  so  I  wouldn't." 

"And  it's  great  ould  lies  they  were  tellin',  who- 
iver  tould  you  that.  Maggie  Farrelly,  bedad  !  Divil 
a  hap'orth  she  was  to  him,  let  alone  he  isn't  the 
slieveen  to  be  playin'  fast  and  loose  wid  your  dacint 
little  slip  of  a  girl.  It's  little  they've  to  do  to  be 
puttin'  them  bad  stories  on  him,  when  he's  overtook 
wid  goodness  can  tell  what  ill-luck  away  from  his 
own  country." 

"  Musha,  man  alive,  isn't  that  what  I  was  sayin' 
a  minit  ago }  Dhrownded  he  mayn't  be  for  sartin, 
but  there's  plinty  more  manners  of  desthruction  in 
it — plinty.  Sure  the  strongest  iver  stepped  might 
be  took  suddint,  like  a  candle-light  in  a  puff  of 
win' — the  saints  purtect  us  all.  There  was  Peter 
Molloy  of  Glenish,  as  fine  a  young  man  as  you'd 
see,  at  Mass  one  Sunday,  and  waked  the  next.  A 
beautiful  corp  he  made,  and  so  'ud  poor  Dan — 
onless  it  was  dhrownin'  after  all,  and  no  layin'  out 
to  be  done  on  him." 

"  Bad  manners  to  it,  woman,  what  talk  have  you 
ofwakin'and  burryin',  and  Maggie  Farrelly?  Cock 
her  up !  But  it's  true  enough  there  do  be  girls  will 
get  round  a  man  wid  their  slootherin',  ti  1  he'll 
scarce  know  for  a  while  what  he's  at  ;  for  a  while 
just — it's  past  \-x\y  belief  that  aught  'ud  hould  him 
long  away  from  all  of  us  here.  I'm  waitin'  wid  a 
job  of  plough-mendin'  I  have  until  he's  back." 


2i6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"  Och  well,  it's  yourself  knows  the  warld,  Dan, 
and  tubbe  sure  he  might  aisy  enough  git  into  bad 
company  in  them  parts,  and  he'd  ha'  nobody  to 
advise  him  agm  it,  or  purvint  them  makin'  a  fool 
of  him,  the  young  bosthoon,  wid  nary  a  thraneen 
of  sinse  in  his  head." 

"  Sinse  is  it  ?  Bejabers  Dan's  got  twyste  the 
sinse  of  many  a  man  double  his  age,  and  more  to 
the  back  of  that." 

"  It's  liker,  then,  somethin'  disprit's  after  hap- 
penin'  him — the  crathur.  But  'deed,  and  if  the 
end  of  it  was  to  ha'  been  his  comin'  home 
married  to  another  girl,  as  some  of  them's 
supposin',  it's  as  black  a  day  for  us  'twould " 

Here  Stacey,  to  whom  this  balancing  of  proba- 
bilities had  been  as  soothing  as  alternate  stabs 
of  ice  and  flame,  stole  forth  from  her  dusky 
corner,  and  slipped  out  at  the  door.  Her 
mother,  however,  just  saw  her  vanish,  and  said 
dismayed  :  "  That  was  Stacey  herself.  Well  now, 
I've  a  head,  and  so's  a  pin — I  might  ha'  re- 
mimbered  she  came  in  afore  you  did.  We'd  a 
right  to  ha'  held  our  tongues." 

As  Stacey  emerged  into  the  honey-coloured 
westering  light,  and  began  to  saunter  about 
aimlessly  in  the  narrow  grassy  foot-tracks  which 
threaded  the  shag  of  furze  and  heather  on  the 
slope   behind   her   dwelling,  she  was  descried   by 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  2J7 

a  group  of  neighbours  who  a  little  way  ofT  were 
watching  Brian  Kiifoyle  cut  sciaws  from  a  green- 
swarded  bank  for  the  repair  of  his  roof.  Whe  i 
she  guessed  their  observation,  she  made  a  feint 
of  looking  for  bogberries,  which  were,  as  every  one 
knew,  no  longer  in  season,  and  moved  slowly  off 
out  of  sight. 

"There  goes  poor  Stacey  Doyne,"  said  Mrs. 
Brian,  "  moonin'  along  like  some  desolit  ould 
crathur ;  it's  a  pity  to  see  her." 

"  I  just  wi.^h  I  had  the  regulatin'  of  that  young 
rip  Dan  O'Beirne,"  said  Mrs.  Quigle)' ;  "  I'd  give 
him  a  goin'  over  he  wouldn't  be  apt  to  forgit  in 
one  while." 

"  Sure  how  can  we  tell  he's  to  blame  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Brian;  "somethin's  maybe  gone  agin'  him. 
But  any  way,  poor  Stacey  might  as  well  put 
the  thought  of  him  out  of  her  mind  as  soon  as 
she  can  conthrive  it.  There's  scarce  a  likeliness  of 
his  iver  showin'  his  face  agin  in  Lisconnel.  We'll 
see  that  same  wisp  of  cloud,  that's  after  sailin'  in 
behind  the  sun  there,  come  sailin'  back  to  us  first 
—  if  you  ask  my  opinion." 

"  Och  Stacey — Stacey  Doyne — she  wouldn't  be 
over-long  troubled  frettin'  after  him,  if  she  had 
but  the  chanst  of  e'er  another  one  handy,"  said 
Sally  Sheridan,  her  words  tumbling  out  thickly 
in   a   sudden  spiteful    flurry,  as   if  they   had   been 


2i8  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

pent  up  unspoken  for  an  irksome  lenc^th  of  tima 
"She'll  niver  want  for  a  sweetheart,  if  it  depinds 
on  herself,  though  maybe  she  doesn't  find  them  so 
aisy  to  pick  up.  I'm  thinkin'  'twas  herself  done 
most  of  the  coortin'  for  young  O'Beirne  ;  he  was 
in  no  great  hurry  over  the  matter — at  all  evints  he 
was  in  a  greater  one  to  be  shut  of  her." 

"Just  look  here,  me  good  girl,"  said  the  widow 
M'Gurk,  "  you've  no  call  to  be  sayin'  any  such  a 
thing  now ;  none  whatsomiver,  even  supposin'  it 
was  the  truth  you  were  tellin',  instid  of  a  black 
lie.  Little  Stacey  Doyne's  not  the  sort  to  be 
coortin'  herself  sweethearts ;  and  she's  no  need, 
sorra  a  bit  has  she.  For  whativer  may  have 
come  to  him  since,  'twas  plain  to  be  seen  young 
Dan  thought  the  warld  hadn't  her  match,  or 
anythin'  fine  enough  for  her  in  it." 

"  And  let  me  tell  you,  Sally  Sheridan,"  said 
Mrs.  Rafferty,  "  that  when  a  girl  passes  them 
kind  of  remarks,  other  people  do  be  very  apt 
to  think  she's  judgin'  accordin'  to  her  own  carryins 
on,  and  it  gives  her  an  oncommon  onplisant  ap- 
pearance." 

Miss  Sally  was  in  reality  considerably  dis- 
concerted by  the  rebuke  of  her  elders,  who  stood 
eyeing  her  severely  from  beneath  their  fluttering 
shawls,  and  who  obviously  had  the  sense  of  the 
company    with   them.     However,   she   would    not 


BETWEEN  TWO  LAD  Y  DA  YS.  219 

"let  on"  that  she  minded,  and  strolled  away, 
snatching  at  the  bushes  as  she  passed,  and  hum- 
ming a  surly  tune  in  a  manner  meant  to  indicate 
unconcern. 

"  But  it's  a  pity,  so  it  is,  about  Stacey,"  resumed 
Mrs.  Brian,  "  you  can  see  be  the  look  of  her  that 
she's  just  frettin'  herself  to  flitterjigs  ;  and  her  poor 
mother  was  tellin'  me  yisterday  that  she'll  scarce 
open  her  lips  from  mornin'  till  night,  but  sits 
mopin'  in  the  corner,  or  sthreels  off  be  herself  on 
the  'oog.  The  poor  woman's  fairly  disthracted 
wid  onaisiness,  and  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  They 
do  say  'twas  a  disappointment  of  that  sort  gave 
Mad  Bell's  wits  a  turn  ;  and  if  Stacey  was  to  go 
like  her,  deminted  poor  ould  body,  bedad  'twould 
be  a  sorrowful  sight,  and  fit  to  break  the  hearts 
of  them  that  rared  her — Sakes  and  patience, 
Jim !  keep  from  under  our  feet,  there's  a  good 
child  ;  I  was  near  waddlin'  over  you  that  time 
like  an  ould  duck." 

"Talkin'of  Mad  Bell,"  said  Mrs.  Rafferty,  "  she's 
away  wid  herself  agin.  Set  off  this  mornin'  afore 
it  was  light,  so  Big  Anne  tould  me.  Sez  she  to 
Anne:  'I'm  afeard,'  sez  she,  'of  them  deep  snow- 
dhrifts  out  there  on  the  bog.'  Goodness  can  tell 
what  put  snow  in  the  crathur's  head.  '  Starvin' 
and  perishin',  starvin'  and  perishin','  sez  she,  '  'twill 
be  wid  yous  here  this  winter,  and  I'm  away  to  the 


220  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

people  where  the  ships  is' — Galway  belike.  So  ofT 
she  wint." 

"  Well  now,  that's  a  bad  hearin',  mark  my  words," 
said  Mrs.  Quigley,  looking  scared  ;  "  Mad  Bell 
and  folk  like  her  do  have  surprisin'  notions  about 
things,  wheriver  they  git  them.  But  there's  no 
great  signs  that  I  can  see  of  a  hard  winter  comin' 
on  us — would  you  say  there  was,  Brian  .''  " 

"  I  dunno,"  said  Brian,  trimming  the  edges  of 
a  symmetrical  smooth  green  sod  ;  "  I  perceived 
a  couple  of  saygulls  flyin'  inland  this  mornin', 
straight  and  steady — bad  cess  to  them." 

"  But  Brian,"  pursued  Mrs.  Quigley,  dropping 
her  voice,  "  have  you  heard  any  talk  lately  about 
Thini  Ones  ?     For  since  young  Mick  Ryan — — ^" 

"  Och  blathers,"  said  Brian. 

"  Whisht,  whisht  then,"  said  Mrs.  Brian,  turning 
away  hastily,  "  the  child's  a-listenin'.  Anyhow,  I 
must  be  steppin'  home." 

"And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Quigley.  "Weary  on  it," 
she  observed  dejectedly,  as  they  went  down  the 
road,  "  maybe  Stacey's  as  well  out  of  settin'  up 
wid  housckeepin'  these  times,  if  she  knew  but  all. 
Starvin's  bad  enough  for  yourself;  but  when  it 
CJmes  to  the  childer — och  wirra,  that's  starvin' 
wid  heart-breakin'  tacked  on  to  the  end  of  it." 

Stacey,  however,  was  as  yet  in  no  mood  to  take 
a  philosophical   view  of  the   situation.     She   still 


BEl  II  EEN  TiVO  LADY  DAYS.  221 

carried  her  trouble  in  both  hands,  as  we  do  with 
such  things  while  they  are  new  to  us.  Afterwards 
we  generally  stow  them  away  in  the  pack  which 
we  keep  on  our  shoulders,  where  they  make  their 
weight  felt,  it  is  true,  but  do  not  hinder  us  from 
going,  more  or  less  heavily,  about  our  wonted 
avocations.  And  in  mere  course  of  time  Stacey 
might  so  have  disposed  of  hers,  even  if  nothing  had 
occurred  to  accelerate  matters. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards,  she  fell  in  with  a  crony 
of  hers  on  one  of  her  dismal  bog-trottings.  Jim 
Kilfoyle  was  a  person  who  for  some  four  years 
had  been  contemplating  his  world  through  a  pair 
of  very  large  and  observant  Irish-blue  eyes,  and 
drawing  his  own  conclusions  therefrom  with  an 
independence  of  thought  which  often  gave  the 
charm  of  originality  to  his  theories.  On  the 
present  occasion  they  had  guided  him  to  a 
spray  of  belated  blackberries,  which  the  vague 
November  sunbeams  had  scarcely  tinged  even 
with  the  crudest  red,  but  which  he  had  no 
scruples  about  plucking  in  their  rathest  im- 
maturity. 

"  Them  berries  are  too  green  to  be  aitin', 
Jimmy,"  Stacey  remonstrated  mildly  ;  but  he 
curtly  replied,  "  Here's  two  ones  for  yourself; 
and  let  me  have  a  bit  of  food  in  paice."  So 
she  prudcntl}'  gave  up  the  poi-nt. 


2»  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

When  he  had  swallowed,  with  inexplicable 
satisfaction,  the  last  hard  knob  of  sour  seeds, 
he  sat  staring  at  Stacey  for  some  time,  and  then 
said  meditatively:  "/  don't  think  you  look  any- 
ways so  like  Mad  Bell,  Stacey." 

"Mercy  be  among  us,  Jim— like  Mad  Bell?" 
Stacey  said,  with  a  little  laugh.  At  eighteen  a 
pretty  girl's  vanity  is  perhaps  the  last  peak  to  be 
submerged,  and  the  first  to  reappear  in  any  swel- 
ling tide  of  affliction,  and  a  comparison  between 
herself  and  the  wizened  little  old  cracked  woman 
could  not  but  strike  her  as  grotesquely  incongruous. 
"  Sure  what  at  all  should  ail  me  to  be  lookin'  like 
Mad  Bell,  poor  ould  crathur?  " 

"  Me  mother  sez  so,  then,"  said  Jim,  rather  sternly, 
for  he  suspected  a  disabling  of  his  judgment  in 
Stacey's  laugh;  "she  and  Mrs.  Quigley  yisterday, 
when  you  were  above  on  the  hill.  Sthreelin'  about 
like  Mad  Bell,  they  said  you  were,  and  fit  to  break 
iverybody's  heart." 

"  Did  they  say — anythin'  else,  Jim?"  said  Stacey, 
with  a  catch  in  her  voice,  as  if  an  icy  gust  had 
blown  in  her  face  and  taken  away  her  breath. 

"Dunno,"  said  Jim,  and  either  could  not  or 
would  not  supply  any  further  information. 

But  what  he  had  stated  made  her  feel  hot  and 
cold.  Hitherto,  so  far  as  her  dreary  preoccupation 
alloweJ  her  to  consider  external  affairs,  she  had 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DA  VS.  223 

believed  that  she  was  keeping  her  miseries  sliictly 
to  herself,  and  betraying  to  nobody  how  her  world 
had  been  turned  into  a  wilderness.  And  now  she 
abruptly  learned  that  her  conduct  had  led  her 
neighbours  to  suppose  her  going  daft,  an  in- 
tolerable revelation,  against  which  all  her  pride 
rose  up  in  arms.  It  found  an  auxiliary  in  the 
feeling  of  self-reproach  roused  by  Jim's  reference 
to  the  breaking  of  everybody's  heart.  For  she 
knew  very  well  that  "everybody"  in  this  con- 
nection could  only  mean  her  mother,  towards 
whom  she  was  conscious  of  having  displayed 
during  the  past  weeks  a  frank  morosity  and 
undisguised  gloom.  "  As  cross  as  an  ould  weasel, 
and  as  conthrary  as  anythin'  you  could  give  a 
name  to,"  she  called  herself,  in  her  awakening 
remorse.  Under  such  circumstances,  this  de- 
meanour, rightly  interpreted,  is  often  really 
tantamount  to  a  friendly  vote  of  confidence ; 
yet  it  blackens  in  the  retrospect  when  the 
memory,  sensitised  by  the  touch  of  conscience; 
is  exposed  to  a  new  point  of  view.  As  Stacey 
sat  silently  beside  the  silent  Jim,  who  had  fallen 
to  grubbing  droves  of  scampering  ants  out  of 
crevices  in  the  bank  with  a  little  bit  of  twig,  her 
thoughts  turned  upon  troubles  of  which  she  was 
not  the  isolated  victim  ;  and  when  she  presently 
got   up    and    moved    away,   she   said    to   herself; 


224  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

*'  I'll  slip  home  and  be  diggin'  the  pitaties  fof 
dinner."  The  resolution  sounds  scaicely  heroic, 
yet  it  nevertheless  marks  the  place  where  Stacey, 
so  to  speak,  faced  about.  A  retreat  in  some 
disorder  had  been  converted  into  a  rally. 

As  if  in  confirmation  of  the  saying  that  fortune 
favours  the  brave,  Stacey  soon  happened  upon  a 
small  scrap  of  comfort,  which,  flimsy  as  was  its 
material,  sometimes  stood  her  in  good  stead.  On 
that  same  afternoon,  her  half-instinctive  groping 
about  among  her  scanty  resources  for  some  object 
of  distraction,  ended  in  a  determination  to  step 
out  and  ask  Peg  Sheridan  for  the  loan  of  a  skein 
of  yarn,  with  which  she  might  set  herself  up  a 
piece  of  knitting.  "  Peg's  been  oncommon  good- 
natured,"  she  reflected  ;  "  she'll  let  me  have  it  in 
a  minit,  if  she's  got  e'er  a  thread."  But  on  her 
way  to  the  Sheridans,  Stacey  was  overtaken 
by  old  Ody  Rafferty,  who  quitted  his  digging 
to  shout  that  he  hadn't  seen  her  for  a  month 
of  Sundays,  and  came  shuffling  down  th-e  potato- 
drill  with  uneludible  nimbleness  to  intercept  her 
at  the  dyke.  She  could  not,  without  marked 
incivility,  avoid  stopping  to  speak,  and  when 
they  had  duly  said,  "How's  yourself  this  long 
while  ? "  and,  "  Finely,  glory  be  to  goodness," 
Ody  prevented  her  from  passing  on  by  catching 
a  corner  of  her  shawl. 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  225 

"  Stacey,  mc  child,  listen  now  to  me,"  he  said  ; 
"  I  was  wantin'  to  tell  you  you've  no  call  to  be 
discouraged  anyways  about  young  Dan  not  comin' 
home." 

Stacey  listened  submissively.  She  was  by  this 
time  acquainted  with  most  of  her  neighbours' 
several  theories  as  to  her  sweetheart's  defection, 
and  they  were  not  on  the  whole  consolatory. 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  way  of  it,  Stacey,"  he  said, 
"he's  just  took  and  enlisted.  That's  what  he's 
after  doin',  and  don't  believe  any  one  that  sez  any- 
thin'  differint.  Sure,  I've  a  right  to  know  what 
I'm  talkin'  about,  considerin'  I've  been  well 
acquainted  wid  the  lad  from  the  time  he  was 
three  feet  high — that  stands  six-fut-two  this  day 
in  his  stockin'  feet.  It's  many  the  mile  we've 
thramped  togither,  himself,  and  meself,  and  mis- 
fortnit  poor  Jinny,  and  I  know  as  well  as  I 
know  me  own  name  that  he'd  a  great  notion 
of  soldierin'.  Troth,  I  could  ha'  tould  you  that 
much  ivcr  since  one  day  I  saw  him  standin' 
lookin'  after  a  miiithry  band  that  went  by  us 
down  at  Kilmacrone.  And  be  the  powers  of 
smoke,  he'll  make  a  grand  dragoon,  Dan  will  ; 
proud  any  regiment  might  be  to  git  a  hould  of 
him.  'Twould  do  one's  heart  good  to  see  him 
in  hii  uniform — and  so  we  will  one  of  these  fine 
days,  for  you    may   depind   he's  just   schemin'  to 

16 


226  IRISH  JJJYLLS. 

give  us  a  quare  ould  surprise  wid  marchin'  in 
on  us  in  all  his  ilegance ;  and  that's  the  raison 
why's  he's  niver  said  a  word — ^just  to  take  us 
unbeknownst.  Not  but  what  it  may  be  a  while 
first.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Dan  was  apt  to  wait 
till  he's  got  a  bit  of  promotion.  The  idee  I  have 
in  me  own  mind  is  that  he'll  likely  put  it  off 
till  he's  riz  to  be  a  colour-seargint " — I  fancy 
that  Ody's  own  mind  supposed  this  officer  to 
derive  his  title  from  the  peculiar  gorgeousness 
of  his  accoutrements — "  and  then  he'll  come 
back  a  sight  to  behould,  he  that  wint  off  wid 
the  daylight  shinin'  thro'  the  ould  coat  was  on 
him  like  a  fire  blinkin'  behind  a  gapped  dyke. 
Och  Stacey,  it's  the  proud  girl  you'll  be  that  day, 
jewel ;  that  set  up,  you'll  scarce  have  a  word  for 
one  of  the  rest  of  us." 

"  I'm  sure  I  niver  thought  to  mind  him  bein' 
raggetty  like,"  said  Stacey  piteously.  "  And  how'd 
he  come  home,  seargint  or  no,  if  they're  maybe 
sendin'  him  off  to  be  kilt  in  the  wars  .? " 

"  Is  it  kilt  ?  Divil  a  much  !  Why,  for  one  thing, 
I  dunna  believe  there's  e'er  a  war  in  it  now,  good  or 
bad.  I  was  spellin'  over  an  ould  Cork  ' Xaminer  a 
couple  of  days  ago,  and  sorra  a  sign  of  a  war  could 
I  see  in  it  at  all,  no  more  than  if  the  warld  had 
took  to  wool-windin'.  And  another  thing  is,  ac- 
cordin'   to  what  I'm  informed,   the  throops  these 


#  BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  227 

times  don't  iver  get  fightin'  rightly  at  all,  but  ju;;t 
slinge  about  aisy  miles  off  aich  other,  and  let  fly 
an  odd  cannon-ball  or  so  now  and  agin  to  pacify 
whoiver  it  was  sent  them  out.  So  it's  a  comical  thing 
if  an  infant  child,  let  alone  a  grown  man,  couldn't 
stand  clare  of  that  much  widout  puttin'  himself 
greatly  about.  I  tell  you  you  needn't  be  vexin' 
your  mind,  Stacey,  for  as  sure  as  me  sowl's  in  me 
body  it's  enlisted  Dan  is,  and  steppin'  home  to  Lis- 
connel  he'll  be  afore  we're  any  of  us  much  oulder. 
He's  the  lad  that  'ud  niver  go  for  to  disremimber 
the  ould  people,  and  the  ould  place,  let  alone  his 
bit  of  a  colleen  dim — not  if  he  was  to  become  Head 
Commander-in-Gineral  by  land  and  say." 

Ody  spoke  with  sincere  conviction,  and  a  wonted 
authoritativeness  which  did  not  fail  to  impress 
Stacey,  and  through  many  succeeding  days  she 
clung  to  the  colour-sergeant  hypothesis  as  des- 
perately as  if  it  had  been  a  life-buoy  instead  of  a 
straw.  In  the  long  dark  evenings,  when  it  was  too 
cold  to  lie  down  away  from  the  fire  on  the  puddly 
floor,  and  in  the  bleak  mornings,  when  life  waking 
up  found  Nought  the  answer  persistently  elicited 
by  computations  of  happiness  in  prospect — a  result 
which  eighteen  \-ears  old  is  prone  to  regard  as  a 
rcdiictio  ad  ivipossibilc — Stacey  sometimes  shut  out 
intrusive  despairs  with  the  help  of  Ody's  glowing 
picture.      Only    it   invariably  happened    that  the 


228  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

martial  figure,  flaring  and  glittering  along  the  bog* 
road,  turned,  before  he  came  very  near,  into  just 
Dan  himself  in  his  old  scarecrow  tatters,  without 
an)'  splendour  or  brilliancy  at  all.  She  had  much 
need,  in  truth,  of  whatever  cheering  figments  either 
faith  or  fancy  could  frame.  For  this  winter  was  a 
pitiless  season  to  Lisconnel  and  its  inhabitants. 

One  December  night  they  all  shivered  sorely  in 
their  lairs  of  heather  and  rags,  as  if  the  breath  of  a 
bitter  frost  were  abroad.  Still,  in  the  morning  no 
traces  of  such  were  visible,  unless  you  noticed  that 
the  lingering  brier  and  bracken  leaves  seemed  sud- 
denly to  have  been  dipped  in  fierily  vivid  scarlet 
and  orange.  But  when  the  potatoes  for  the  next 
meal  were  gathered,  faces  lengthened  and  heads 
shook ;  for  experienced  eyes  at  once  recognised 
signs  of  a  "frost-blighting"  that  must  entail  a 
serious  shrinkage  of  estimated  supplies.  And  soon 
after  that  they  began  to  draw  omens  from  the 
flights  of  birds,  flocks,  mainly,  of  seagulls  small 
and  great,  who  came  swooping  over  the  mirk 
of  the  bog,  lighting  on  it  in  patches  of  foam, 
scattered  momently  in  a  flickering  of  white  wings 
as  they  fled  on  furtiier  inland.  Herons,  too,  passed, 
heavily  and  gloomily  flapping  and  croaking ;  and 
long  trains  of  wild  duck,  scudding  by  like  trails  of 
smoke  that  knew  where  it  was  going,  till  they 
dwindled  into  blurred  pencil-marks  on  the  horizon. 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DAYS.  229 

All  these,  if  they  did  not  exactly  belong  to  "  the 
nation  of  uni'ortunate  and  fatal  birds,"  were  watched 
coming  and  going  by  foreboding  eyes,  as  the 
harbingers  of  "  powerful  severe  weather  when  they 
do  be  that  plinty." 

And,  sure  enough,  before  Christmas  there  was 
deep  snow.  It  came  wavering  across  the  bogland 
on  a  north-west  wind,  and  lay  strewn  at  first  in 
handfuls,  and  then  in  armfuls,  till  at  last  a  huge 
lead-coloured  cloud  appeared  to  shatter  itself  sheer 
over  Lisconnel — "  Like  as  if,"  to  quote  Pat  Ryan, 
"you  were  crumblin'  a  soft  clod  of  clay  between 
your  two  hands;"  and  thenceforward  all  was  one 
blank  of  white,  only  broken  here  and  there  by  the 
black  mouth  of  a  bog-hole.  Even  these  filled 
eventually,  as  the  water  in  them  froze  hard,  and 
made  of  each  a  secret  resting-place  for  the  whirling 
drifts,  pitfalls  into  one  of  which  the  Quigley's  fawn- 
coloured  goat  floundered  down,  poor  wretch,  to  her 
smothering  death.  For  the  snow  was  accompanied 
by  such  a  biting  fi  )st  as  seldom  grips  Lisconnel, 
and  the  tiny  dry  flakes  and  granules  seemed  to  be 
ground  fine  and  driven  in  tangible  mists  of  stinging 
dust  on  the  wide-wailing  storm, 

"  It's  a  good  chanst  we're  gettin'  to  understand 
the  say  in' : 

*' '  When  you  see  the  snow  like  salt  and  riale, 
Yuur  lood  and  tirc'll  be  apt  to  fail,'  " 


230  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Brian  Kilfoyle  said  one  day,  ruefully  kicking  at  a 
glittering  powdery  drift,  which  had  sifted  under 
the  Doyne's  rickety  door  into  their  house,  where 
he  was  talking  to  Stacey  and  her  mother.  Brian, 
who  is  normally  a  big  burly  man,  at  that  time  liad 
assumed,  in  common  with  his  neighbours,  the 
aspect  of  an  incomplete  structure,  a  framework 
with  much  filling  out  left  to  do.  "  It's  siven  weeks 
lyin'  on  us  now  sin'  Christmas,  and  here's  Candle- 
mas wid  nary  a  sign  of  a  change  yit.  But  I'm 
glad  to  see  you  houldin'  up  so  well  agin  it,  ma'am." 

"  Och,  indeed  I'm  keepin'  iligant  and  grand,  thank 
God," said  Mrs.  Doyne.nervouslyfingering  the  largest 
hole  in  her  frayed-out  apron.  "  But  as  for  Stacey 
there,  the  crathur,  her  face  this  minit  isn't  the 
breadth  of  the  palm  o'  me  hand  ;  the  two  eyes  of 
her'll  prisintly  be  runnin'  into  one." 

Stacey  shrank  further  into  the  background  at 
the  sound  of  her  own  name,  and  Brian  Kilfoyle 
said  :  "  Ah,  sure  young  things  like  her  do  be  aisy 
perished — aye,  and  the  ould  people  too.  There's 
me  poor  mother,  she  and  little  Jim,  since  the  bad 
turn  he  took  a  while  ago,  they  don't  seem  to  have 
an  atom  of  warmth  left  in  them.  Scarce  a  wink 
they  sleep  of  a  night  wid  the  could,  though  we  do 
give  them  ivery  rag  we  can  conthrive.  Our  hearts 
are  fairly  broke  wid  them  ;  for  me  mother,  if  we 
do.i't  mind  her,  will  be  slippin'  the  wisp  of  an  ould 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DA  YS.  231 

cloak  off  her  on  to  one  of  the  childer,  and  gittin' 
her  death  ;  and  that  Jim  does  be  creepin'  from  one 
to  the  other  hke  a  lost  dog  at  a  fair,  thryin'  for  a 
taste  of  heat  somewheres,  the  misfortnit  little  spal- 
peen ;  its  hands  grabbin'  you  do  be  just  dabs  of 
ice.  But  divil  a  thraneen  more  have  we  got  to  put 
on  them." 

There  was  a  painful  pause,  and  then  Mrs.  Doyne 
said,  apologetically  :  "  I  wish  to  goodness  gracious, 
Brian,  I  could  offer  you  the  loan  of  e'er  an  ould 
wrap,  but  indeed  it's  hard  set  we  are,  man,  to  keep 
the  life  from  freezin'  stiff  in  ourselves  these  times, 
wid  the  most  we've  got." 

"Tubbe  sure,  tubbe  sure,  ma'am,"  Brian  said,  in 
hurried  deprecation,  "  how  would  you  ?  Sure  we 
must  all  shift  for  ourselves  the  best  way  we  can, 
and  we'll  do  right  enough  wunst  this  blamed  black 
frost  quits  a  hould." 

Brian  had  now  carried  out  the  purpose  of  his  call, 
but  he  could  not  betray  the  fact  by  immediate 
departure,  so  he  lingered  gossiping  in  the  door- 
way. 

*'  Big  Anne's  sleepin'  up  at  Widdy  M'Gurk's 
these  couple  of  nights  back,  did  you  hear  tell } "  he 
began..  "  She  got  that  scared  and  lonesome  there 
be  herself  she  couldn't  abide  it." 

For  Mad  Bell  was,  as  we  know,  absent,  and  the 
Dnmmv  had  been  some  years  dead. 


232  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"  So  they  were  sayin',"  said  Mrs.  Doyne.  "  But 
look-a,  Brian" — lowering  her  voice  solemnly — "div 
you  know  was  there — anythin'  special  frightened 
ber?" 

"Well,  yis,"  he  answered,  in  a  reluctant  sort  of 
mumble,  "  a  fut  goin'  up  and  down  along  be  her 
door,  and  nobody  on  the  road  ;  and  somethin'  that 
shook  the  latch  and  let  a  keen,  and  niver  a  breath 
of  win'  stirrin'.  Lastewise  that's  the  story  she  has. 
But  just  you  tell  me  how  many  nights  in  the  year 
there  is  widout  a  waft  of  win'  goin'  thro'  it ;  and  as 
for  them  bastes  of  goats,  times  and  agin  I've  mis- 
took a  one  of  them  pattin'  by  for  somethin'  in 
brogues.  Howsome'er,  what  fairly  tirrified  her  was 
a  voice  that  kep'  callin'  '  Anne,  Big  Anne,'  imitatin' 
first  one  neighbour,  and  then  another,  and  difif'rint 
in  a  manner  from  them  all.  She  sez  'twas  such 
hijeous  clare  moonlight  she  dursn't  look  out, 
and  she  lay  in  a  could  thrimble  till  the  mornin', 
listenin'  to  a  tappin'  on  the  window — she'd  stopped 
up  the  pane  wid  her  ould  saucepan-lid  for  'fraid  she 
might  see  somethin'.     That  was  rattlin'  belike." 

"  Saints  shield  us  around,"  said  Mrs.  Doyne, 
crossing  herself,  "  we'd  be  well  off  if  there  was 
nothin'  worse  than  saucepans  rattlin'.  You've  heard 
tell  what  happint  young  Mick  R\an  about  Holy 
Eve,  when  he'd  a  crib  set  for  snipe  be  the 
river?" 


BETWEEN  Tll'O  LAD  V  DA  YS.  233 

Brian  only  said,  "  Aye,  aye,''  uninvitingly,  but 
she  could  not  forego  the  recital : 

"Just  hftin'  the  basket  he  was,  when  he  looked 
up,  and  if  there  wasn't  Wan  of  TJiim  standin'  on 
the  opposite  bank  right  fornint  him,  wid  on'y  the 
flow  of  the  bit  of  sthiame  between  them — and  the 
Other  comin' jiggin'  along  over  the  strip  of  field,  not 
a  stone's  throw  off.  Troth,  poor  Mick  thought  he 
couldn't  git  his  heels  out  of  it  fast  enough.  I 
wonder  he  didn't  lose  his  wits  for  good.  When 
he  fetched  home,  his  people  thought  he  was  blind 
drunk — Och  mercy,  what  at  all's  yon  out  there, 
Brian  ?"  she  interrupted  herself,  suddenly  clutching 
him  by  the  arm,  and  pointing  through  the  open 
door.  Far  out  upon  the  blanched  waste  something 
there  was,  moving  dimly  in  the  thickened  light  of 
the  gloaming,  but  whether  the  form  of  man  or  beast, 
or  of  neither,  could  not  be  told.  Brian,  without 
speaking,  went  a  step  outside,  and  seemed  to  mea- 
sure the  distance  which  intervened  between  his 
own  door  and  the  place  where  he  stood. 

"  It's  just  merely  o.ie  of  the  goats  trapesin' 
ground,"  he  said. 

Then  he  made  a  plunge,  and  rushed  towards  his 
cabin  across  the  clogging  snow,  stumbling  and  trip- 
I)ing  in  a  headlong  haste,  for  which  there  was  noth- 
ing apparent  to  account.  Mrs.  Doyne  banged  and 
bolted  the  door  behind  him  ;  and  when,  long  after- 


234  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

wards,  her  two  sons  came  home,  they  were  obliged 
to  kick  and  shake  it  for  some  time,  with  much 
strong  language,  uttered  in  unmistakably  familiar 
tones,  before  courage  enough  was  screwed  up  inside 
to  give  them  admission. 

On  the  next  morning,  Mrs.  Doyne,  coming  in 
with  an  icicle-fringed  bucket,  sustained  another 
shock  of  a  different  kind.  Stacey  was  sitting  with 
folds  of  brown  stuff  spread  about  her,  and  with 
needle  and  thread  in  hand.  It  was  the  material 
got  for  her  wedding-gown,  cut  out  by  Biddy  R}'an, 
who  is  "  quare  and  cute "  about  such  things,  and 
partially  sewn  together  by  Stacey 's  mother,  before 
the  day  when  the  girl  had  passionately  implored 
that  it  might  be  put  away  out  of  her  sight,  since 
when  it  had  lain  hidden  underneath  the  dresser. 

"I  was  considerin'  the  skirt  would  make  a  little 
sort  o*  frock  like  for  the  Kilfoyles'  Jim,"  Stacey 
said  in  explanation.  "'Tis  bad  to  be  thinkin'  of 
the  bit  of  an  imp  perishin'  all  night.  Then  the 
k^nth  of  grey  holland  'ud  make  a  petticoat  might 
help  to  keep  the  life  in  ould  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  ;  I'd  be 
sorry  aiiythin'  took  her." — The  old  woman  had 
soothed  Stacey's  spirit  by  expressing  confidence  in 
the  honesty  of  Dan. — "  And  there'll  be  enough 
wincey  left  yit  to  ready  up  a  body  for  your  ugly 
ould  self" 

"Och  honey,  but  supposin'  you  might  be  wantin' 


BETWEEN  Tiro  LADY  DA  VS.  235 

it  one  of  these  days  after  all?"  said  Mrs.  Doyne 
unable  to  refrain  from  a  protest  against  this  implied 
abandonment  of  hope. 

"  Niver  a  want  I'll  want  it,"  said  Stacey.  "  Pie's 
dead  and  gone,  mother  jewel.  'Tis  a  sin  to  lave 
it  l}'in'  up  ;  there's  a  beautiful  \\  armth  in  it.  And 
I've  set  me  mind  on  it  oncommon." 

So  Mrs.  Doyne  assented,  as  she  would  to  most 
things  upon  w'hich  Stacey  with  her  great  wistful 
e\'es  had  set  her  mind  ;  this  acquiescence,  howe\er, 
not  barring  sundry  bitter  thoughts  of  a  Dan  hypo- 
thetically  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

Stacey  sewed  hard  all  day,  with  horrible  gobble- 
stitches  it  must  be  owned,  for  her  educalion  had 
been  sadly  neglected  in  many  of  its  branches ; 
besides  which,  the  cold  would  scarcely  let  her  hold 
the  needle.  By  the  time  the  daxlight  failed,  she 
had  finished  two  very  quaint  garments,  whose  cut 
would  not  bear  criticism,  but  warm  and  stout  of 
f  ibric.  She  felt  impatient  to  convey  them  to  the 
Kilfoyles  ;  yet  as  she  looked  out  over  the  gleam- 
ing snow,  which  had  drawn  all  the  light  down  out 
of  the  blank  sky,  some  unc;mny  thoughts  came 
before  her  mind  so  vividly  that  she  shrank  from 
traversing  even  those  few  roods  of  ground  alone, 
and  she  determined  to  wait  until  her  brothers 
came  in.  But  as  the  evening  wore  on,  and  they 
did  not  arrive,  she  grew  more  and   more  ficigcty. 


236  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

It  would  be  a  cruel  pity  to  let  Jim  freeze  through 
another  whole  night ;  his  small  cold  hands  seemed 
to  keep  dragging  her  towards  the  door  ;  and  at 
last  she  said  to  herself  that  she  would  chance  it : 
maybe  there  wasn't  a  word  of  truth  in  them  quare 
stories  all  the  while ;  she'd  niver  seen  aught. 
Watching  her  time,  therefore,  she  stole  out  unob- 
served with  her  bundle  into  the  moonlight. 

She  wished  it  had  not  been  so  bright.  Just  to 
run  on  blindly  through  dark  shadows,  which  kept 
discreetly  hidden  whatever  unchancy  objects  they 
might  hold,  would  have  seemed  easier  than  to  face 
that  broad  white  glare,  where  anything  dreadful 
would  be  seen  so  very  plainly.  The  rush  was 
made,  however,  without  incident;  and  then  Stacey 
sped  out  of  the  Kilfoyles'  cabin  almost  as  pre- 
cipitately as  she  had  sped  into  it,  running  away 
from  the  bewildered  gratitude  of  its  inhabitants, 
and  the  importunate  memories  and  contrasts  which 
this  final  disposition  of  her  wedding  gear  did  not 
fail  to  arouse. 

But  when  she  had  gone  only  a  few  paces  from 
their  door,  a  sudden  panic  seized  her.  She  was 
compelled  by  a  sort  of  irresistible  fascination  to 
look  fearfully  round  over  the  wilds  that  lay  stark 
about  and  about  her,  as  solitary  as  the  un fathomed 
blue-black  deeps,  with  their  frost-burnished  full 
moon    and    light-drowned    star-flecks.      Wafts    cf 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DA  YS.  237 

wind  came  murmuring  from  the  tar  distance,  here 
and  there  sweeping  up  a  wliirl  of  powdery  flakes, 
as  if  some  one  lifted  a  corner  of  the  great  white 
sheet  and  let  it  fall  again  in  a  rumpled  fold.  The 
wind,  of  course,  was  full  of  sighs  and  voices,  and 
shadows  wavered  and  flitted  on  the  snow.  How 
could  she  tell  what  they  might  be  ?  Suppose  she 
should  meet  that  strange  little  crying  child,  whom 
people  said  sometimes  ran  after  them  when  they 
were  late  abroad  on  the  bog?  Or  the  limping  old 
woman,  who  laughs  in  your  face  as  she  goes  by? 
Terror  whirled  through  Staccy's  thoughts  like  an 
autumn  gust  among  a  drift  of  fallen  leaves.  She 
began  to  dart  along  as  fast  as  the  deep  snow,  a 
nightmare-like  drag,  would  permit,  and  she  kept 
her  eyes  fixed  desperately  on  the  track  she  trod  in. 
Quite  near  her  own  door,  however,  she  had  to 
slacken  her  pace,  because  across  her  path  stretched 
two  furrow-shaped  snow-drifts,  into  whose  un- 
gauged  depths  she  dared  not  plunge  her  bare  foot. 
And  as  she  paused  a  moment  irresolute,  a  voice 
close  by  spoke  abruptly.  "  You'll  have  to  git  over 
them,"  it  said,  "in  standin'  leps,  as  the  Divil  wint 
thro'  Athlone."  Stacey  did  not  scream  or  fly,  for 
she  knew  the  voice,  and  it  was  one  which  would 
have  reassured  her  in  the  teeth  of  a  North  American 
blizzard,  or  the  heart  of  a  West  Indian  cyclone 
"  So  it's  yourself,  Dan,"  she  said. 


238  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Dan  O'Beirne  it  was,  a  tall,  gaunt,  ragged  figure, 
standing  up  blackly  just  beyond  the  sharp-cut 
shadow  of  the  Doynes'  cabin  wall.  "Aye,  'tis  so," 
he  said,  with  an  anxious  hurry  in  his  manner. 
"And  are  you  thinking  intirely  too  bad  of  me, 
Stacey,  that  I  sted  away  so  long  ?  And  you  not 
hearin'  a  word,  I'm  tould,  'xcipt  the  letter  I  sint  be 
Paddy  Loughlin,  the  sthookawn,  that  you  niver 
got.  Mesclf  it  is,  sure  enough,  and  pounds  and 
pounds,  and  somethin'  I  stopped  to  get  you  up  at 
Larne — on'y — there's  the  use  of  one  hand  mostly 
disthro}'ed  on  me,  and  I  dunno,  tellin'  you  the 
truth,  if  I'll  iver  walk  any  better  than  a  trifle  lame 
wid  me  left  fut — ^just  a  trifle.  Och,  but,  Stacey 
asthore,  maybe  you'd  liefer  have  nought  to  say  to 
such  an  ould  bosthoon  of  misery?" 

"Sure  it's  all  one,"  said  Stacey,  "why  you  sted 
away,  since  it's  home  you  are  agin  ;  and  the  sorra 
a  much  I'd  be  mindin'  if  you  hadn't  a  hand  or  a 
fut  left  on  you  at  all,  at  all."  A  speech  whereof 
the  first  clause  sounds  rather  poor-spirited,  and  the 
last  distinctly  unfeeling ;  but  to  which  Dan  took 
no  exception. 

He  could  give  a  more  detailed  account  of  him- 
sslf,  however,  to  less  incurious  friends,  whom  he 
told  how,  on  finishing  his  engagement  at  the  peat- 
factory,  a  temptingly  lucrative  job  had  lured  him 
over  the  straits  to  Scotland,  whence  he  intended  to 


BETWEEN  TWO  LADY  DA  YS,  239 

return  about  Holy  Eve,  which  change  of  plan  he 
announced  in  a  letter  home,  confided  to  one  Paddy 
Loughlin,  who  proved  an  unreliable  messenger.  The 
truth  is  that  Paddy  "  cliver  and  clane  "  forgot  his 
friend's  letter  in  his  own  bustle  about  transmitting 
his  earnings  home  in  postal  orders,  and  getting 
himself  shipped  back  as  a  pauper  to  the  most  con- 
veniently-situated Union — a  thrifty,  if  not  strictly 
legitimate,  mode  of  travelling  occasionally  adopted 
by  itinerant  harvest-men.  How,  just  before  he 
should  have  started  for  home,  he  met  with  a  bad 
accident  while  helping  to  rescue  the  factory  fore- 
man's son  out  of  a  whirl  of  jag-toothed  wheels  and 
hissing  bands,  "like  so  many  spider's  webs  all  set 
a-goin'  by  the  Divil,"  and  had  lain  for  a  couple  of 
months  crippled  in  hospital,  whence  he  had  sent 
no  word,  "  lest  they'd  be  fretted  thinkin'  he  was 
took  for  death  away  from  them  all." 

"  Oncommon  kind  people,"  ran  his  account  of 
his  experiences  there,  "and  iverythin'  done  as  agree- 
able as  they  could  conthrive,  barrin'  that  them 
doctors  would  be  lookin'  in  of  a  mornin'and  sayin', 
'That  leg  had  a  right  to  come  off  tomorra,'  or 
'  He'll  lose  them  two  fingers,  anyway,'  as  aisy  and 
plisant  as  if  the  flesh  wasn't  creepin'  on  your  bones 
to  hear  them.  But  sure  they  were  intindin'  no  harm : 
it's  the  nature  of  them  to  keep  choppin'  and  saw  in'. 
The  on'y  wonder  is  that  any  one  gits  out  of  a  place 


240  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

where  they  do  be  pHnty,  wid  enough  of  his  body 
left  him  to  hould  his  sowl  in."  Then  how,  recover- 
ing, unmulct  after  all  of  limb,  he  had  straightway 
repaired  home, bringing  with  him  the  "pounds  and 
pounds"  presented  to  him  by  the  grateful  foreman, 
a  suit  of  clothes  much  too  good  to  think  of  wear- 
ing, and  the  promise  of  permanent  employment 
at  Sterry  and  Lawson's,  whenever  he  chose  to 
return. 

Even  so,  Dan's  home- coming  could  not  be  com- 
pared for  external  brilliancy  with  that  of  the 
colour-sergeant.  Indeed,  after  the  first  raptures  of 
restoration  had  subsided,  the  elder  Uan  cast  many 
a  regretful  glance  at  the  halting  gait  and  sling- 
suspended  arm  of  his  tall  son  ;  while  Ody  Rafferty 
sought  to  slur  over  the  refutation  of  his  own  con- 
jectures by  insisting  on  the  fact  that,  if  the  lad  had 
took  off  to  the  most  outrageous  wars  iver  was,  he'd 
more  likely  than  not  have  come  out  of  them  with 
less  destruction  done  on  him  than  might  be  per- 
ceived now.  Young  Dan's  native  air  seemed,  how- 
ever, to  possess  very  salubrious  qualities  ;  and 
belbre  he  had  been  three  weeks  at  home,  his  step 
began  to  regain  its  firmness,  and  strength  and 
suppleness  returned  to  his  limp  wrist  and  stiffened 
fingers.  His  cure  was  practically  complete  by  the 
time  that  the  black  frost  had  broken,  and  the  snow 
had  vanished   off  the  bog,  leaving  only  its  wraith 


BETH^EEN  TIVO  LADY  DAYS.  241 

on  the  frail-blossomed  sloe-bushes,  and  the  wedding- 
day  had  come. 

I  met  the  bridal-party  proceeding  towards  the 
Town  on  Farmer  Hilfirthy's  loaned  jaunting-car, 
and  it  struck  me  that  T  had  never  seen  so  many 
people  at  once  on  any  vehicle.  1  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Jim  Kilfoyle  in  a  queer  brown  frock  sitting  on 
the  well,  and  just  as  they  passed  he  was  saying 
sternly:  "  I'  dare,  Biddy  Sheridan,  if  you  don't  lave 
houldin'  me  on,  I'll  let  the  greatest  ould  yell  you 
iver  heard,  and  terrify  the  horse." 

This  was  a  morning  in  Easter  week,  and  Lady 
Day  in  Spring  too — a  coincidence  which  led  the 
widow  M'Gurk  to  observe  that  you  might  meet  as 
good  fortune  marrying  on  one  Lady  Day  as 
another:  a  happy-go-lucky  sentiment  which  Lis- 
connel  appears  disposed  to  adopt  as  a  piece  of 
local  proverbial  philosophy. 


?y 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BACKWARDS  AND   FORWARDS. 

Should  it  be  concluded  from  facts  related  in  the 
foregoing  chaptersthat  truth  for  truth's  sake  is  rather 
at  a  discount  in  Lisconnel,  I  can  scarcely  gainsay 
the  inference.  If  "  lettin'  on,"  "  romancing  a  bit," 
and  "  just  humbuggin',"  with  a  little  blarneying  and 
slulhering  thrown  in,  are  over-straitly  judged,  we 
shall  be  found  in  a  parlous  state.  But  there  is  one 
point  on  which  the  veracity  of  its  inhabitants,  like 
that  of  many  other  people  similarly  situated,  seems 
exposed  to  less  warrantable  suspicion.  It  is  a  com- 
monly received  opinion  that  the  dwellers  in  any 
remote  and  lonely  district  are  largely  responsible 
for  whatever  growths  of  ghostly  legend  may  flourish 
there.  These,  although  they  do  not  perhaps  spring 
directly  from  anybody's  invention,  are,  it  is  held, 
sedulously  festered  and  cultivated,  and  handed 
down  with  additions  and  improvements  from 
generation  to  generation,  who  take  a  sort  of  pride 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  243 

and  pleasure  in  them.  We  have  all  heard  how  the 
peasants  gather  round  their  hearths  on  eerie  winter 
evenings,  and  beguile  the  time  with  the  recital  of 
marrow-freezing  ghost  stories,  to  which  they  con- 
tribute, at  any  rate,  wilfully  credulous  minds. 

No  doubt  this  custom  does  really  exist  in  some 
places  ;  but  I  can  confidently  assert  that  it  is  not 
to  be  found  in  Lisconncl,  and,  failing  personal 
observation,  I  should  venture  to  think  its  general 
prevalence  antecedently  improbable.  People  who 
live  their  li  es  in  solitary  places  of  the  earth,  under 
a  rigorous  enforcement  of  all  the  penalties  of 
Adam,  are  little  likely  to  hanker  after  the  intro- 
duction of  any  supernatural  crooks  into  their  lot  ; 
to  voluntarily  fill  the  wild  blasts  wailing  round 
their  poor  hovels  with  unearthly  shrieks  and 
lamentations,  that  bid  them  spend  their  long  night 
imagining  some  fear,  or  beset  their  fields  with 
prowling  phantoms,  that  cause  them  on  their  lonely 
road  to  "walk  in  doubt  and  dread."  In  Lisconnel, 
certainly,  there  is  none  of  this  vult  decipi.  On 
the  contrary,  such  things  are,  if  accepted  at  all, 
accepted  under  protest.  There  is  a  marked  ten- 
dency to  resist  the  admission  of  spectres  to  the 
hamlet  and  its  purlieus,  and  to  resent  any  obstinate 
assertion  of  their  presence.  Johnny  Ryan,  for 
instance,  will  fight  you  any  day — supposing  you  a 
possible  combatant — to  uphold  his  contention  that 


244  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

he  "  niver  saw  or  heard  aught  on  the  bogland 
quarer  than  it  might  be  an  ould  white  goat  gh'm- 
mcrin'  in  a  strake  of  moonlight,  or  a  saygull 
lettin'  a  screech  goin'  by."  And  considerable  in- 
genuity is  expended  in  euhemcrising  uncanny  per- 
sonages, and  explaining  away  mysterious  appear- 
ances. How  much  of  whatever  belief  in  spectral 
hauntings  has  survived  these  critical  methods  may 
be  the  unconscious  work  of  imagination,  on  which 
opposition  sometimes  acts  as  a  stimulus,  is  of 
course  a  different  question. 

You  have  seen  already  some  traces  of  its  survival ; 
and,  indeed,  if  you  consult  a  certain  section  of  the 
community,  you  will  learn  facts  which  you  would, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  be  glad  to  disprove,  did  you 
happen  to  live  in  Lisconnel.  You  will  hear  not 
only  of  fearsome  wanderers  met  a-field,  but  of 
strange  forms  found  cowering  by  the  hearth  at 
home,  and  stealing  away  to  lurk  in  dusky  nooks, 
whence  no  one  dares  more  than  surmise  their 
ultimate  withdrawal.  Of  a  shadow  lying  black  all 
day  across  the  threshold,  with  nothing  visible  to 
cast  it,  but  falling  ice-cold  upon  whomsoever  makes 
bold  to  step  over  it.  Of  a  lame  old  woman,  who 
comes  tapping  at  your  door,  it  may  be  in  the  broad 
noonlight — a  harmless-seeming  old  creature  you 
think,  until  she  looks  into  your  eyes  and  laughs  a 
laugh  you  will  not  soon  forget  the  sound  of.     AH 


BACKIVARDS  AXD  FORWARDS.  245 

the  lore,  in  short,  connected  with  those  beings 
whom  Lisconnel  terms  collectively,  more  or  less 
under  its  breath,  T/iiin  Wans. 

The  origin  of  these  visitations  now  lies  obscured 
in  the  history  of  such  old  unhappy  things,  that  it 
has  come  to  be  narrated  in  more  various  ways  than 
I  can  here  recount.  But  one  of  our  local  tragedies, 
said  to  be  still  terribly  commemorated,  did  actually 
occur  within  the  recollection  of  anybody  who  has 
had  the  sorrowful  fortune  to  live  through  the  great 
Famine  year  ;  that  is,  some  half-century  since.  It 
was  down  at  Classen's  Boreen,  a  few  miles  along 
the  road  towards  the  Town,  where  a  skeleton  cabin 
stands  to-day,  that  a  man,  driven  distraught  with 
the  famine-fever,  barred  himself  and  three  or  four 
small  children  into  their  room,  while  the  mother 
went  in  quest  of  food.  And  when  she  returned 
with  some  bread  at  nightfall,  through  the  snow, 
the  poor  wretch  would  not  open  to  her.  So  all 
night  she  beat  on  the  door,  and  called  to  her  cry- 
ing children  ;  anel  the  next  day  the  whole  family 
were  found  cold  and  dead,  the  father  and  children 
in  the  cabin,  and  the  mother  outside,  half-buried  in 
a  drift  heaped  against  the  wall,  her  loaf  untouched, 
and  in  her  hand  the  stone  with  which  she  had 
been  battering  the  door.  The  cabin  has  been  ever 
since  deserted,  and  its  doorway  is  a  ruinous  gap. 
Yet  still  on  many  a  night,  they  say,  this  miserable 


246  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

woman  may  be  seen  standing  by  it,  wringing  her 
hands  and  buffeting  the  empty  air.  If  you  can 
take  to  your  heels  and  fly  before  you  have  beheld 
anything  more,  you  will  have  met  with  nothing 
worse  than  a  fright.  But  if  she  turns  and  beckons 
you  to  come  and  help  her,  you  could  be  given  no 
surer  warning  of  black  troubles  in  store. 

This  was  just  what  did  befall  Brian  Kilfoyle  one 
spring  evening  not  long  after  young  Dan's  wedding, 
on  his  dusky  way  home  from  O'Beirne's  forge  with 
a  mended  loy.  Brian's  belief  in  ghostly  manifes- 
tations is  as  a  rule  waveringly  reluctant,  and  he 
would  probably  soon  have  reasoned  himself  into  a 
conviction  that  he  was  only  "  after  mistakin'  some- 
thin'  in  the  darkness  of  the  light,"  had  not  his  mood 
been  already  downcast  and  foreboding,  on  account 
of  his  mother's  failing  health.  For  the  past  winter 
had  proved  a  crucial  test  to  all  Lisconnel's  feeble 
folk,  and  {q.\v  of  them  had  struggled  through  it 
unscathed.  Some  of  them,  indeed,  had  come  out 
on  \.\vi  wrong,  or  at  any  rate,  the  otJier  side.  The 
Pat  Ryans  had  lost  their  youngest  twin  child, 
which  was  still  of  a  size  to  be  called  by  the  neigh- 
bours indifferently  "Joe"  and  "  Molly,"  and  which 
used  to  trot  a  long  way  after  either  of  its  parents 
when  it  saw  them  going  anywhere.  Old  Mick 
R\'an,  too,  had  died  at  the  end  of  several  days' 
lethargy,  so  deep  that  it  was  impenetrable  by  even 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  247 

the  tobacco,  to  purchase  which  his  daughter,  elderly 
Biddy,  ran  into  debt,  besides  nearly  walking  herself 
off  her  legs  in  a  forced  march  to  the  Town  and  back. 
Under  these  circumstances  Brian  was  in  the  humour 
to  take  quick  alarm  at  his  mother's  weakness  and 
flagging  spirits,  and  now  his  impression  that  the 
dark  figure  standing  in  the  ruined  doorway  had 
turned  round  and  beckoned  to  him  through  the 
twilight,  put  a  finishing  touch  to  his  uneasiness. 
So  much  so  that  he  resolved  upon  the  extreme 
measure  of  seeking  qualified  medical  advice,  and 
to  that  end  obtained  a  "  red  ticket "  from  Father 
Rooney. 

Whereupon  to  Lisconnel  came,  Dr.  Ward  being 
on  leave,  a  youthful  locum  tenens,  whose  amiable 
qualities  created  a  favourable  impression,  dashed 
with  a  doubt  that  such  a  slip  of  a  lad  could  have 
had  "  e'er  a  scrumption  of  experience  "  to  authorise 
his  opinions.  His  report  upon  his  patient  was  to 
the  effect  that  he  could  see  little  amiss  with  her. 

"  Sure  it's  active  and  robustuous  enough  your 
mother  seems  to  be  for  a  body  of  her  time  of  life" 
— he  ivas  thus  represented  as  expressing  him.'~.elf 
by  Mrs.  Brian — "but  in  coorse  it  stands  to  raison 
she  isn't  altogether  as  young  as  slie  was  a  while 
ago."  Not  having  a  turn  for  obvious  pleasantries, 
he  had  given  up  adding  in  such  cases  :  "  She  ought 
to  have  plenty  of  strengthening  food." 


248  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"  And  '  Goodness  guide  you,  sir,'  sez  I  to  him 
'  sure  she  wasn't  t/iaf  afore  iver  you  were  born  or 
thought  of,'  sez  I,"  continued  Mrs.  Brian,  who 
appeared  somewhat  illogically  to  consider  this 
repartee  a  refutation  of  the  doctor's  cautiously 
worded  statement.  Her  husband,  on  the  other 
hand,  felt  by  no  means  disposed  to  cavil  at  the 
verdict,  which  relieved  his  fears  so  happily,  that 
when  he  escorted  the  young  man  to  his  horse,  he 
observed  with  strong  emphasis,  "  It's  rael  deliglitfut 
weather  we're  gettin'  now,  your  honour,"  although 
the  bog  was  just  then  livid  with  low-creeping  flocks 
of  pale  mist,  and  the  day  had  been  as  consistently 
dismal  and  lack-lustre  a  one  as  ever  spent  its 
drizzling  hours  in  what  we  call  neither  raining  nor 
letting  it  alone. 

The  last  Saturday  in  the  following  June  was  a 
shining  contrast.  A  morning  risen  behind  lattices 
of  fretted  snow-sheen,  which  melted,  with  ever- 
widening  interspaces,  far  up  and  away  into  faint 
lines  and  filmy  streaks  like  the  clouding  on  an 
agate,  until,  while  the  greensward  underfoot  was 
yet  all  beaded  with  prisms  of  dew,  the  lapis  lazuli 
cup  overhead  curved  down  without  a  fleck  from 
brim  to  brim.  It  was  to  be  rather  an  eventful  day 
for  Lisconnel,  by  reason  of  a  fair  held  in  the  Town, 
at  which  several  of  the  neighbours  proposed  to  sell 
their  pigs  and  poultry,     Lisconnel  always  sells  its 


BACK]l'ARDS  AXD  FORWARDS.  249 

few  pigs  about  this  season,  not  because  they  are 
fat,  but  because  the  need  of  a  Httle  ready  money 
becomes  coercive  in  the  month  before  potato- 
t^'fe^ing-  The  place  docs  not,  I  must  admit,  excel 
in  S'.vine,  a  fact  hardly  to  be  marvelled  at,  when 
one  considers  how  much  plain  living  is  perforce 
practised  by  the  animals  during  their  sojourn 
among  us.  Even  if  it  is  accompanied  by  the  corre- 
sponding high  thinking,  which  must  remain  a 
matter  of  conjecture,  that  does  not  influence  market 
prices.  Seldom,  in  the  case  of  a  Lisconncl  pig, 
will  any  amount  of  hopeful  prodding  and  poking 
establish  in  its  owner's  mind  a  comfortable  assur- 
ance of  good  condition  ;  though  a  refractory  beast, 
who  has  to  be  hauled  shrieking  out  of  a  hole,  or 
lifted  over  a  dyke,  is  conventionally  described  as 
"  the  weight  of  any  ten,  begorrah."  Yet,  however 
humble  our  own  opinion  of  our  wares  may  be,  it  is 
trying  to  find  the  same  confirmed  for  us,  sarcas- 
tically, by  other  people.  We  do  not  like  to  be 
greeted  after  a  long  trudge  by  inquiries  such  as : 
"Wasn't  it  maybe  a  coorsin'-match  you  were  intin- 
din'  to  show  them  at  all  the  while  .''  "  or,  "  Might  you 
iver  ha*  happint  to  take  notice  that  in  some  places 
the  Digs  do  have  a  fashion  of  wcarin'  their  bones 
the  wrong  side  o'  their  skins?"  or,  "What  at  all 
do  you  be  feedin'  the  bastes  on  up  at  Lisconncl  ? 
Ould  scythe-blades,  belike  ?  or  is  it  an  odd  taste  of 


250  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

a  slim-handled  hay-rake?"  These  questions  have 
before  now  been  settled,  temporarily,  with  the  help 
of  fists  and  blackthorns. 

The  market  folk  set  off  betimes  this  morning, 
and  as  many  of  their  neighbours  were  out  on  the 
bog  cutting  turf,  the  place  grew  very  quiet,  when 
once  the  squealing  and  squawking,  which  attended 
their  progress,  had  died  distantly  away.  It  felt 
like  a  Sunday  to  the  stayers  at  home,  and  it  was 
partly  this,  and  partly  the  glorious  weather  that 
brought  them  together  in  a  session  on  an  undu- 
lating bank  of  fine  sward  interspersed  with  boulders 
set  flat  in  heathery  rims,  a  favourite  holiday  loung- 
ing place,  not  far  from  the  Kilfoyles'  cabin.  Old 
Mrs.  Kilfoyle  was  among  them,  brisker  again  in 
response  to  the  call  of  June,  but  physically  almost 
extinguished  under  the  folds  of  her  daughter-in- 
law's  ample  blue  cloak,  with  which  her  winter's 
indisposition  had  been  made  a  long-sought  pretext 
for  investing  her,  much  against  her  will.  Even 
Peter  Sheridan  made  a  shift  to  hobble  out  of  doors, 
not  leaving  behind  him  his  rheumatics — "  and  bad 
scran  to  them" — whose  companionship  is.  however, 
least  obtrusive,  when  he  can  sit  quiet  in  the  warm 
clasp  of  the  sun. 

Its  beams  came  long  and  slanting  still,  when  the 
two  last  of  the  party  bound  for  the  fair  were  almost 
ready   to   start — the    widow    M'Gurk    and    Brian 


BACKIVARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  251 

Kilfoyle.  Brian  was  going  as  a  buyer,  not  a  seller, 
having  disposed  of  his  pig  a  week  ago,  when, 
finding  that  small  pigs  went  "cruel  dear,"  he 
deferred  the  purchase  of  its  successor  in  hopes  to 
getting  a  better  bargain  later  on.  But  the  widow 
had  on  hands  both  her  pig,  and  a  clocking  hen, 
with  which,  a  clutch  of  eggs  being  unattainable, 
she  had  regretfully  resolved  to  part.  Brian  had 
waited  to  assist  her  in  the  transportion  of  this  live 
stock  ;  but  the  hen,  with  a  perverse  prescience 
characteristic  of  her  race,  had  at  the  last  moment 
taken  ungainly  flight,  and  was  now  being  pursued 
by  himself  and  all  the  children  out  of  arms. 
Meanwhile,  Mrs.  M'Gurk  ready  equipped  for  her 
journey,  paused  by  the  wayside  group  with  her 
lean  pig  in  a  string. 

"  We'd  do  right  to  lave  that  ould  rogue  of  a  hin 
behind  us,"  she  said  uneasily,  while  her  beast  fell 
to  grazing  industriously,  as  if  bent  upon  adding  at 
least  a  shilling  to  his  market  value,  "  she'll  only  be 
delayin'  the  man  and  spoilin'  of  his  chances." 

"  Och,  they'll  grab  her  prisintl}-,  no  fear;  she 
can't  keep  that  work  up  very  long,  try  her  best," 
said  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  placidly  listening  to  the 
receding  sounds  of  the  pursuit.  "Sit  you  down, 
Mrs.  M'Gurk,  ma'am,  and  be  takin'  the  weight  ofT 
of  your  feet  while  you  can.  I  hope  you'll  have 
good  luck  with  that  crathur  there  ;  he  seems  to  be 
a  tidy  level  little  baste." 


252  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

"I  wish  I  may  do  as  well  as  Brian  himself  done 
last  day  wid  his,"  said  the  widow.  "  'Twas  a  grand 
price  entirely  he  got  out  of  thim,  and  if  he  can  pick 
up  a  weeny  one  any  ways  raisonable,  he'll  be  right 
enough,  plase  God.  And  we've  a  notion  what  else 
he'll  be  bringin'  home  wid  him  this  evenin',  over  and 
above,  haven't  we  now,  Mrs.  Ryan  ? "  she  added, 
glancing  at  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  and  winking  witli 
weather-beaten  archness. 

"  Troth  have  we,"  said  Judy  Ryan,  "  the  same 
sort  of  notion  I've  got  of  what  Mr.  Corr  does  be 
weighin'  out  of  a  yaller-papered  box  wid  black 
scrawms  to  it,  and  charges  eightpince  the  quarther- 
poun'  for,  and  blows  open  a  purple  bag  to  put  it  in — 
and  then  if  your  kettle's  boilin',  and  jour  water's 
not  smoked,  'twill  be  yourselfs  to  blame  if  you 
haven't  an  iligant  cup  of  tay,"  Judy  was  happily 
unconscious  that  the  end  of  her  enigma  had  escaped 
rather  prematurely  from  its  subtle  enfoldures. 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  the  little  old  woman,  looking 
round  her  from  friendly  face  to  face  in  a  pleased 
flutter,  "  Brian  does  be  very  good."  And  every- 
body smiled  and  winked  and  nodded  approval, 
being  fully  in  the  secret  of  Brian's  intentions. 

Everybody  except  Biddy  Sheridan,  who  looked 
suddenly  disconsolate,  as  if  at  a  pang  of  jarred 
memory,  where  she  sat  peeling  flakes  of  shaggy 
grey  lichen  off  a  sun-warmed  stone.     *'  Me  brother 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  253 

Mick,"  she  said,  in  a  semi-soliloquising  murmur, 
"he'd  very  belike  ha'  been  thinkin'  of  bringin'  home 
a  bit  of  baccy  this  night  wid  him,  too,  if  there  was 
e'er  a  one  left  to  set  store  by  it.  Mick  niver 
begrudged  aught  he  could  do  for  his  ould  father, 
I'll  say  that  for  him.  It  wasn't  in  him — not  when 
he  had  his  own  way."  There  was  just  a  tinge  of 
resentment  in  the  last  words. 

"  And  bedad  now,  Biddy " — her  sister-in-law's 
tone  was  undisguisedly  deprecating — "  bedad  now, 
woman  alive,  nobody  could  lay  it  agin  us  that  we 
either  of  us  iver  begrudged  the  poor  ould  man — 
God  be  good  to  him — bit  or  sup,  or  any  trifle  of 
warmth  or  comfort  we  had  the  givin'  of.  I'm  not 
goin'  for  to  deny  but  that  I  might  be  a  bit  put  past 
me  patience — goodness  forgive  me — now  and  agin, 
when  times  was  bad,  to  see  his  ould  pipe  puff- 
puffin.  'Twas  in  a  way  like  throvvin'  the  childer's 
scrap  of  food  behind  the  fire." 

"  Accordin'  to  my  considcrin',"  Mrs.  I^ilfoyle's 
falsetto  flute- piping  interposed  before  Biddy 
could  reply,  "  that  baccy 's  a  humbuggin'  kind  of 
ould  stuff  Sure  that's  plain  on  the  face  of  it,  for 
excipt  it  waslettin'  on  to  besomethin'  diff'rint  from 
itself,  who'd  give  a  brass  farthin'  for  the  likes  of  it .'' 
A  little  black-lookin'  lump  you've  as  much  bothera- 
tion gittin'  a  smoulder  of  red  out  of  as  if  it  was  a 
wet  sod  of  turf,  and   risin'  such  a  smell — f.ii.x  you 


2  54  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

might  think  they'd  a  cart-load  of  pratie-haulms 
burnin'  in  the  pipe-bowl  ;  on'y  I'd  a  dale  liefer 
have  that  for  a  scent — och,  but  I  remimber  it  in 
the  fields  at  home.  But  the  fact  of  the  matter  is, 
smokin's  just  a  notion  the  crathurs  have ;  when 
they  git  taken  up  wid  it,  'tis  the  same  to  them  as  a 
paiceable  sort  of  drunkness,  and  puts  the  thought 
of  the  throubles  they're  in  the  middle  of  out  of  their 
heads.  Many's  the  time  I'd  think  to  meself,  Biddy, 
when  I'd  see  your  poor  father  sittin'  inside  there, 
wid  his  feet  in  a  puddle  of  rain,  and  the  could  win' 
freezin'  mad,  and  he  lookin'  fit  to  drop,  and  he  con- 
tintin'  himself  all  the  while  wid  the  ould  pipe  that 
was  near  shakin'  out  of  his  hand,  the  crathur — 
many's  the  time  I'd  be  thinkin'  'tis  a  poor  case  to 
ha'  nothin'  between  yourself  and  all  the  Divil's 
work  about  you  better  than  a  few  streels  of  baccy- 
smoke.  Och,  girl  dear,  we've  no  call  to  go  wish 
any  one  back  agin  widin  his  reach,  that's  after 
givin'  him  the  slip  for  good  and  all,  and  needn't  be 
schamin'  ways  to  disremimber  himself  and  his 
tormintin'  thricks." 

"  That's  the  truth,  ma'am,"  said  Peter  Sheridan, 
hoarsely,  at  her  elbow. 

"  I  dunno,  then,"  said  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  who  stood 
fronting  the  as.sembly,  with  her  elongated  shadow 
grotesquely  deflected  against  the  sunny  bank,  and 
who  evidently  entered  her  protest  from  a  sense  ol 


BACklVAIWS  Ai\D  FORWARDS.  235 

duty,  "  I  dunno  how  you're  rightified  in  makiti' 
sure  you'll  be  shut  of  the  Divil  as  soon  as  you  quit 
out  of  this,  be  any  manner  of  manes.  Bedad  it 
may  be  quite  the  other  way.  My  opinion  of  him 
is,  )-ou  niver  can  tell  where  he'll  have  you,  dead  or 
alive.  For  anythin'  we  know  he  might  be  doin'  as 
much  agin  us  one  place  as  the  other,  or  maybe 
more,  and  bad  luck  to  him." 

"  Well,  it's  clare  enough  to  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Kilfoyle,  "  and  the  way  I  look  at  it  is  this. 
There's  little  misdoubtin'  that  the  Divil's  plinty 
of  sinse,  howiver  he  come  by  it,  and  knows  what 
he's  about,  God  forgive  him,  as  well  as  you  or  me. 
And  he  wouldn't  be  disthressin'  himself  the  way 
he  is  to  keep  anno)  in'  people,  if  he  didn't  perceive 
that  it  was  here  he's  gettin  his  best  chanst  of  doin' 
mischief  on  us,  and  nowhere  else.  He  wouldn't 
give  himself  that  much  throuble,  you  may  depind, 
if  he  thought  he'd  have  us  readier  to  his  hand, 
merely  be  waitin'  till  the  breath  was  out  of  one's 
body — not  he  ;  he's  too  cute.  For  look  at  the 
carryins  on  of  him ;  look  at  the  conthrivances  he 
has,  and  the  invintions.  Sure  there's  nothin',  bip 
cr  little,  he  wouldn't  be  for  meddlin'  in,  though 
it  might  be  a  maitcr  you'd  niver  think  he'd 
need  to  consarn  himself  wid,  'xcipt  he  was  fairly 
dhruv  to  it.  And  even  so,  he  hasn't  it  all  his  own 
way  ;  for  whcniver  his  Betters  ha^•e  the  time,  now 


2S6  IRISH  ID  VLLS. 

and  agin,  to  be  keepin'  an  eye  on  him,  he's  bound 
to  quit  interferin',  and  iverythin'  goes  plisant 
enough,  and  no  thanks  to  him.  Aye  bedad,  he 
gits  a  disappointment  of  an  odd  while,  Hke  any  one 
else  in  this  world  ;  and,  mark  my  words,  he 
wouldn't  be  spendin'  so  much  of  his  days  in  it,  if 
there  was  e'er  another  place  he  could  regulate 
more  to  his  mind." 

"  Onless  'twas  for  divarsion  like,"  suggested  Judy 
Ryan,  "  the  same  way  that  Quality  do  come 
sthravadin'  on  the  bog  wid  their  guns,  and  wadin' 
up  to  their  knees  in  the  rivers,  after  the  bits  of 
birds  and  fish,  and  they  wid  more  than  they  can  ait 
at  home  all  the  while,  if  it  was  that  that  ailed  them." 
"  Divarsion  ?  why,  woman  dear,  in  coorse  it's 
divarsion  to  him;  what  else  should  it  be?  But 
what  I  vyas  sayin'  is  that  it's  here  he  has  to  come 
for  it,  same  as  Quality  after  their  shootin',  and  when 
wunst  we've  took  off  wid  ourselves,  he's  no  more 
chanst  agin  us  than  they  have  at  a  flock  of  snipe 
they're  after  missin'  and  scarin'.  And,  signs  on  it, 
he's  noways  wishful  to  be  scein'  folk  he's  plaguin' 
quit.  If  it's  a  young  body,  now,  that's  to  be  took, 
a  bit  of  a  child,  or  a  fine  lad,  who'll  lave  plinty 
breakin'  their  hearts  after  them,  that  belike  suits 
the  ould  naygur  right  well,  he's  nothin'  to  say  agin 
it ;  they'll  go — they'll  go  fast  enough.  But  there's 
a  many  misfortnit   crathurs   that   onless  the  Divil 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  257 

does  his  endeavours  to  keep  them  alive  in  their 
misery,  I  dunno  who  would." 

"  True  for  you,  ma'am,"  said  Peter  Sheridan 
again,  "you  might  say  so,  if  you'd  whiles  feel  the 
life  was  skivered  into  your  body  wid  all  the  sharp 
ends  of  aches  and  pains,  or  else  you'd  be  fit  to 
sthretch  yourself  out  aisy,  and  away  wid  you." 

"  Dunnot  say  such  a  thing,  then,  father,"  said  his 
daughter  Peg,  looking  piteously  at  him,  and  all  at 
once  feeling  like  a  parricide,  as  she  bethought  her 
how  she  had  only  last  night  assented  to  her  step- 
mother's proposition  that:  Himself  was  gittin' 
uglier  tempered  wid  ivery  day  wint  over  his  head. 

"  But  he's  bound  to  let  go  a  hould  of  you  one 
time  or  another,  Peter,  plase  God,"  Mrs.  Kilfoyle 
urged  consolatorily,  "  whativer  villiany  he  does  on 
you,  the  end  of  it  is  he  has  to  give  it  up  as  a  bad 
job,  and  lave  you  to  go  along  in  paice." 

"  Arrah  now,  will  no  talk  contint  you  but  dyin' 
and  the  Divil.?"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Doyne.  "To 
be  hearin'  you  one  ud'  think  we  were  just  sittin' 
here  a  minit  to  wait  till  our  coffins  come  up  the  road, 
that  the  ould  wan  had  had  the  bespakin'  of"  She 
glanced  furtively  round  the  broad  sky-scape,  and 
then  huddled  herself  closer  into  the  shelter  of  the 
hollow  bank,  tightening  her  skimpy  shawl  across 
her  shoulders. 

*'  Sure  I  was  manin'  no  harm  wid  it,"  said  the  old 
18 


258  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

woman  apologetically,  "  but  we  might  aisy  whisht 
about  him  for  that  matter.  There's  a  good  few 
things  the  Divil  has  nothin'  to  say  to,  or  dyin' 
either,  though  I  dunno  why  people  need  mostly 
think  so  bad  of  that.  It's  maybe  the  sort  of 
throuble  there  is  shiftin'  from  one  place  to  another 
that  sets  thim  agin  it." 

"Aye,"  said  Mrs.  Quigley,  "some  botheration 
there's  apt  to  be  gittin'  in  and  out  of  anythin', 
if  it's  on'y  elbowin'  your  way  out  of  chapel,  whin 
there's  a  throng  at  Mass.  And  'twill  be  right  at 
the  door  you'll  git  the  most  crowdin',  and  pushin', 
and  squeezin,'  fit  to  reive  the  ould  rags  off  of  your 
back ;  but  just  the  next  step  beyond  it,  you've  all 
the  world  c'ear  before  you,  and  room  to  be  dancin' 
jigs  in,  if  that  was  what  you  were  after." 

"  Crowdin',  is  it?"  said  Biddy  Ryan  ;  "  oh  jabers, 
there's  no  crowdin'  about  it  that  I  can  see.  Musha, 
it's  part  of  the  contrariness  of  the  whole  consarn, 
that  so  long  as  you  keep  livin'  there'll  be  people  all 
about  you  galore,  day  out  and  day  in,  wid  the 
childer  bawlin'  and  scrcechin',  and  the  lads 
quarrelin'  and  bangin'  about,  and  iverythin'  all 
thro'  other  under  your  feet,  till  you're  fairly 
moidhered,  and  thinkin'  you'd  be  glad  enough  to 
find  e'er  a  little  hole  away  off  be  yourself  for  paice 
and  quiet.  But  whin  you  come  to  quittin'  them 
all,  and  takin'  off  to  nobody  can  rightly  tell  where. 


BACKIVARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  259 

and  you  feclin'  that  quare  and  lost,  you'd  be  ready 
to  put  up  wid  any  company  you  could  git,  if  it  was 
on'y  a  brute  baste — och  then  there's  niver  a  soul 
you'll  have  the  chanst  of  along  wid  you,  sorra  a 
mortial  one ;  lonesome  or  no  lonesome,  it's  be 
yourself  you're  bound  to  go." 

"That's  the  notion  young  people  like  you  do 
have,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  who  remembered  Biddy's 
grizzled  locks  as  a  downy  fluff,  "  but  be  the  time 
you've  lived  as  long  as  I,  and  seen  as  many  comin' 
and  goin' — and  stayin'  away  —  you'll  find  it's 
behind  you  that  you're  lavin'  the  most  of  the 
lonesomeness." 

"  Seems  to  me  'twould  ha'  saved  a  power  of  work 
if  God  Almighty  would  ha'  been  contint  to  make 
the  one  job  of  it,  and  stick  us  all  down  whcriver  it 
was  we  were  meant  to  stop,  widout  any  shiftin'  us 
back  and  forrards,"  said  Andy  Sheridan,  who  had 
come  up  with  a  large  turf-creel  on  his  shoulders, 
and  crouching  under  it  on  the  top  of  the  bank  had 
somewhat  the  aspect  of  a  straitly-lodged  hermit- 
crab.  "  It's  the  same  as  if  you  were  to  be  plantin' 
your  pitatics  in  half  a  dozen  differint  places  before 
)'Ou'd  made  your  mind  up  to  the  right  one  ;  and 
that's  a  quare  way  of  doin'  business." 

"  I'rhaps  you've  no  call  to  be  in  a  hurry,  me 
tight  lad,  to  find  yourself  settled  in  the  place 
you're  bound  for,"  quoth  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  grimly,  for 
Andy  was  not  in  her  good  graces. 


26o  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"  Maj'be  not,"  he  said,  undoubling  himself  to  aim 
a  conjectural  cuff  at  his  half-sister  Rose,  whom  he 
heard  trying^  to  tilt  over  his  creel  from  behind,  "but, 
whether  or  no,  where's  the  sinse  of  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  sure,  for  one  thing,  if  people  were  to  ha' 
been  always  in  the  good  place,  they  mightn't  iver 
know  the  differ,"  said  Judy  Ryan,  coming  in  first, 
while  her  neighbours  were  still  casting  about  for 
hypotheses. 

"And  supposin'?"  said  Andy,  swinging  his  legs 
unimpressed,  "  where'd  be  the  harm  of  not  knowin' 
the  differ,  when  there  was  nary  a  differ  to  know?  " 

Judy  was  not  prepared  to  elucidate  this  point, 
and  looked  her  perplexity. 

"  Who  said  there  was  any  sinse  in  it  .-' "  de- 
manded Peter  Sheridan,  glumly.  "  As  like  as  not 
there's  none."  He  was  staring  straight  before  him, 
seemingly  in  at  the  black  doorway,  not  many  paces 
distant,  out  of  which  he  had  painfully  crawled. 

"  Ah  now,  I  declare  I  dare  say  that's  it,  glory  be 
to  goodness,"  said  Judy,  brightening  up,  as  if 
piously  relieved  at  this  solution  of  the  difficulty, 
"  very  belike  there's  no  sinse  in  it  at  all ;  it's  just 
the  will  of  God." 

"  And  we  needn't  be  consarnin'  ourselves  about 
that,  anyhow,"  said  Mrs.  Quigley. 

"  Eh,  lads  dear,  we'll  all  git  sorted  right  enough 
one  way  or  the  other,"  Mrs.  Kilfoyle  said,  summing 


BACKIVARDS  AA'B  FORWARDS.  261 

up  rather  hurriedly,  for  it  struck  her  that  the  dis- 
cussion was  developing  a  note  of  acrimony  ;  "we're 
better  off  at  all  ivints  than  if  we  were  to  be 
beginnin*  wid  the  good,  and  endin'  wid  the  bad — 
And  here's  Brian  after  catchin'  th'ould  hin." 

"Bad  manners  to  her  then  for  givin'  him  such  a 
dance,"  said  Mrs.  M'Gurk. 

Brian  had  his  captive  in  a  dishevelled  wicker 
basket,  from  beneath  the  wobbling  lid  of  which 
she  frequently  thrust  her  witless  black  head  to 
squawk,  at  an  imminent  risk  of  guillotining,  since 
he  suppressed  her  demonstrations  as  promptly  as 
if  they  had  been  applause  in  a  court  of  justice. 

"  Begorrah,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  if  there  was  any- 
body down  bej-ant  offerin'  a  stiff  price  for  a  sort 
of  ould  screech-owl  wid  springs  in  the  legs  of  her 
like  a  grasshopper's,  when  she's  tired  flyin'  up  over 
your  head  like  an  aigle,  you've  a  right  to  make 
your  fortin  this  day.  It's  lucky  I  thought  to  give 
Norah  the  hankycher  wid  the  bit  of  money  in  it 
afore  she  went  on,  for  'fraid  it  might  git  joggled 
out  of  me  somehow  shankin'  down.  But  it's 
steppin'  we  ought  to  be.  Good-bye  to  you  kindly, 
mother ;  and  keep  us  a  sup  of  hot  watei 
boilin'." 

The  widow  twitched  away  her  pig  from  his 
grazing,  which  caused  him  to  exchange  his  appre- 
ciative hruDipJis  for   protcstant   squeals,   and    they 


263  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

were  all  three  soon  out  of  sight  behind  the  ridge 
of  the  knockawn. 

"They'll  be  no  great  while  overtakin'  the  others 
at  that  gait  of  goin,"  said  Biddy  Ryan.  "  Och, 
but  'tis  a  long  draggin'  stretch  of  road,  weary  on 
it,  and  lenthens  itself  out  ivery  time  you  go  it. 
But  there's  none  of  us  will  have  tramped  it  as  often 
as  yourself,  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  ma'am." 

"  Belike  no,  me  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  "con- 
siderin'  all  the  years'  start  I've  had  of  the  whole  of 
yous.  Sure  I  was  no  age  at  all,  you  may  say,  when 
first  we  travelled  it.  This  end  of  it  wasn't  rightly 
finished — faith,  Lisconnel  was  but  a  poor-lookin' 
place  in  those  days.  And  for  a  while  after  we  did 
be  livin'  here,  we  always  called  it  the  road  home, 
because  'twas  along  it  we  came  out  of  th'ould 
place  in  the  county  Clare.  Then,  if  we  wanted  to 
keep  the  childer  pacified,  that  was  mostly  small  ram- 
pagin'  spalpeens,  we'd  on'y  to  let  on  we  were  settin' 
out  back  agin,  and  they'd  trot  along  till  they  were 
tired.  But  the  day  me  father  was  buried  down 
beyant,  nothin'  we  could  do  or  say  'ud  persuade 
the  crathurs  that  he  hadn't  just  gone  home  to  fetch 
our  couple  of  cows.  'Deed,  poor  man,  he  fretted 
terrible  after  the  little  black  Kerry  he  left  behind — 
Roseen  Dhu  he  called  her.  And  they  did  be 
lookin'  out  a  great  while,  expectin'  him  to  come 
dhrivin'   her   along.      D'you   sec   the   white    stone, 


BACKIVARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  263 

Biddy,  up  there  agin  the  edge  of  the  headland  ? 
That's  where  h'ttle  Thady,  me  youngest  brother, 
'ud  sit  uatchin'  many  a  day  ;  and  had  me  poor 
mother  dislliractcd,  morc-be-token,  wid  runnin' 
tuniblin'  in  to  her  Hke  a  bit  of  a  puppy,  yelHn' 
that  his  father  was  comin'  up  the  road.  It's  a 
quare  imp  of  a  child  Thady  was,  that  wint  to  the 
mackerel  fishin',  and  was  dhrownded  in  Galway 
Bay." 

"  I  just  can  mind  hcarin'  talk  of  Thady  Joyce," 
said  Peter  Sheridan,  "  but  troth,  you'll  git  ahead 
backwards  of  the  whole  of  us,  ma'am,  when  it's  a 
matter  of  recollections." 

"  Yit  for  as  long  as  I'm  in  Lisconnel,"  Mrs.  Kil- 
foyle  said  meditatively,  "  I  scarce  think  I've  iver  got 
the  idee  of  it  all  clare  in  me  head  the  same  way  I 
have  the  ould  place  at  home.  It  doesn't  seem  that 
nathural  to  me  somehow  ;  lasteways  these  times 
when  I  don't  be  trapesin'  about  much,  the  lie  of  the 
Ian'  gits  moidliered  up  in  me  mind,  as  if  'twas  wid 
a  mist  risin'.  But  Clonmena,  now,  sure  to  this  day 
if  I'm  l)Mn'  awake  in  the  night,  I  can  be  goin'  over 
the  whole  of  it,  lighted  up  in  me  thoughts,  same  as 
I  used  to,  and  I  a  slip  of  a  lass  sleepin'  in  the  bit  of 
a  room  away  under  the  thatch,  lookin'  out  above 
the  front  door,  wid  the  river  runnin'  by.  Sure  I 
knew  ivery  inch  of  ground  it  flowed  over,  and 
whiles    afore    I'd     fall     asleep,    I'd     divart     mesclf 


264  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

threadin'  the  fields  and  all  along  it,  as  if  you  were 
slippin'  your  beads  thro'  your  fingers.  First  it's  in 
our  couple  of  fields,  that's  the  one  of  them  narrer 
and  long-shaped,  and  the  other  of  them  scooped 
out  hollow  and  round  like  a  sort  of  nest,  and  the 
both  of  them  as  smooth  and  as  green  as  the  moss 
shinin'  in  the  cracks  of  this  ould  stone.  And  then 
across  the  end  of  young  Conroy's  meadow,  below 
the  high  bank  and  the  hawthorns  atop,  and  after 
that  off  wid  it  under  the  dark  bridge  on  the  Borrisk 
road,  and  spreadin'  out  on  the  grey  gravel  beds, 
and  among  the  clumps  of  cress — 'tis  but  a  poor 
hungry  bit  of  land,  all  tussocks  and  ragweed — till 
it  runs  round  the  hill-fut  among  the  firs,  and  gits 
slitherin'  away  down  and  down  past  the  smoothened 
stones  and  the  brown  roots,  and  the  fern-leaves 
drippin',  and  the  stems  tumbled  aslant,  makin'  for 
the  bottom  of  the  deep  glen  ;  and  in  there  it  does 
be  shut  close  wid  the  trees  roofin'  it  overhead,  and 
the  little  path  wavin'  up  and  down  alongside  it,  all 
the  way  to  th'ould  mill  at  Kildrum  ;  so  a  bit 
beyond  it  takes  out  into  the  river  Coolanagh,  no 
less,  that's  a  powerful  width  of  water.  Saints  alive, 
sure  I  could  be  foUying  it  along  blindfold.  Or  if  it 
was  the  win'  I  heard  comin'  rustlin'  by,  the  other 
way,  I  could  tell  where  it  was  goin'  wid  itself — 
keenin'  up  the  boreen  behind  the  house,  and  out  on 
the  big  steep  pitatie  field,  and    bc)'ond  that  agin 


BACKIVARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  265 

over  the  grass  slopes,  and  the  sheep  browsin',  and 
the  breadth  of  bracken  and  furze-bushes,  till  the 
great  cHffs  go  down  at  your  feet  slap  into  the  say- 
like  the  wall  of  a  church  tower.  When  you  look 
over  the  edge,  you  might  think  there  was  the  white 
wing  of  a  gull  just  flutterin'  at  the  bottom,  but, 
musha,  all  the  while  it's  the  foam  of  a  big  wave 
rowled  in  fit  to  lift  you  off  your  two  feet,  supposin' 
you  were  anywheres  it  could  git  a  grab  at  you. 
You'll  hear  the  sound  of  them  comin'  up  iveryonce 
and  awhile,  like  as  if  'twas  the  river  stoppin'  to 
take  breath.  But  it's  the  flow  of  the  river  I  do  be 
missin'  most  out  of  it,  those  times  when  I'm  remim- 
berin'  it  to  meself.  I've  a  notion  I'd  git  a  great 
*f^eep  entirely  if  iver  I  come  widin  sound  of  it  agin. 
For  'twas  the  last  thing  I'd  mind  afore  I  dropped 
off,  and  as  like  as  not  the  first  thing  I'd  hear  in  the 
mornin'  would  be  our  crathurs  of  ducks  flustherin' 
into  it  one  after  the  other  off  of  the  flat  steppin'- 
stone.  And  I'd  up  wid  me  and  out  to  see  to  gittin' 
in  the  eggs.  Goodness  guide  me,  'twas  on'y  the 
other  day  wakin'  up  I  thought  I  heard  me  poor 
mother  callin'  '  Chooky,  chooky '  to  her  hins,  as 
nathural  as  could  be,  and  it  just  Mrs.  Pat  huntin' 
home  her  little  goat — I  dunno  what  ould  romancin'  I 
have,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  interrupting  herself,  ''but 
this  while  back  I've  nothin'  on'y  them  far-gone  days 
runnin'  in  me  mind.     Seems  like  as  if  there  must 


266  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

be  sometbin'  raci  quare  ahead  of  me,  that  hinders 
me  thinkin'  forrards." 

"  God  save  you,  woman  dear,  what  quarencss 
should  there  be  in  it  at  all?"  said  Judy  Ryan,  look- 
ing vaguely  disquieted  ;  *'  why  sure,  you  were 
always  great  at  remimberin'  ;  often  enough  you've 
tould  us  the  same  things  afore  now  ;  and  it's  but 
nathural.  Just  as  if  a  body  climbin'  a  hill  'ud  be 
facin'  about  to  look  the  way  he'd  come  up,  for  the 
sake  of  a  rest." 

"And  there's  scarce  a  one,  ould  or  young,"  said 
Biddy  Ryan,  "but  has  the  feelin'  they'd  be  ready 
for  a  good  sleep  at  the  day's  end,  river  or  no  river. 
Sorra  the  quareness  there's  in  that.  The  strongest 
great  big  bosthoon  of  a  man  that  iver  stepped,"  she 
averred,  looking  argumentatively  at  the  little  old 
woman,  "will  be  thinkin'  of  gittin'  to  sleep  when 
he's  tired.  There's  nothin'  like  it.  Not  but  what 
to  be  sittin'  aisyin  the  sun  when  you  git  the  chanst 
this  a-way,  is  mighty  agreeable  ;  isn't  it  now,  ma'am } 
Look  at  the  light  dancin'  away  yonder  on  the  pool ; 
you  might  say  the  water  was  thinkin'  to  churn  itself 
into  gould  and  silver." 

"  Aye,  aye,  Biddy,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  not  look- 
ing as  far  as  the  bright  pool,  "  'tis  all  like  a  kind  of 
picter  to  me.  But  the  warmth  of  the  sun  docs  mc 
heart  good,  and  the  simmcrin'-summerin'  tliere  is 
thro'  it,  same  as  if  wc  had  the  ould  kettle  sittin'  on 
the  hob." 


BACKIVARDS  AND  FOKWARDS.  267 

The  noontide  was  indeed  going  by  to  an  accom- 
paniment of  elfin  clicking  and  creaking  and  whir- 
ring, kept  up  unintermittently  on  the  glowing 
swaid  with  its  tenant  grasshoppers  and  beetles 
and  blue-  and  red-winged  flies,  and  overborne  by  a 
droning  boom  as  often  as  a  dusty  bee  backed  out 
of  one  freckled  foxglove's  purple-shaded  cell,  and 
went  murmuring  to  toil  and  swing  in  another. 
Ikitterflies  cruised  idly  nowhere  in  particular  on 
white  sails,  or  freaked  with  orange  and  scarlet,  and 
mailed  dragonflies  poised  and  darted  in  vivid 
jewelled  gleams.  There  was  scarcely  breeze 
enough  stirring  to  whisk  the  fuzzy  white  wigs  off 
the  seeded  dandelions,  and  up  on  the  ridge  of  hill 
the  hot  air  quivered  against  the  rocks  like  a  curtain 
about  to  rise.  Lisconnel  with  its  bog  lay  basking 
very  wide  and  still,  making  the  most  of  such  a 
midsummer  sun  as  seldom  looks  down  upon  us. 

Nothing  happened  to  disturb  its  quiet  perceptibly 
all  the  long  morning.  The  neighbours  had  their 
dinner  when  the  shadows  were  shortest,  which  was 
the  most  clearly  defined  hour  of  the  day  for  them 
now  that  the  widow  M'Gurk's  old  clock  had  given 
up  even  pretending  to  keep  time.  And  then  the 
turf-cutters  began  again  to  pass  leisurely  to  and 
fro,  halting  with  their  creels  at  the  bank  where  the 
same  group  had  reassembled.  So  when,  well  on  in 
the  afternoon,  Brian  Kilfoyle  tramped  over  the  hill 


268  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

into  LJsconnel,  he  found  everything  there  vei*y 
much  as  he  had  left  it.  A  grievous  change  had, 
however,  come  over  his  own  frame  of  mind.  He 
was  in  a  sort  of  white  heat  both  physically  and 
mentally,  what  with  his  long  walk  in  the  eye  :f  the 
sun,  and  his  wrath  and  consternation  ;  his  look 
showed  plainly  that  some  untoward  event  had 
brought  about  his  return  surprisingly  early ;  for  no 
one  had  been  expected  to  reappear  in  such  very 
broad  daylight. 

"  She's  lost  it  on  us,"  he  said,  confronting  his 
neighbours'  interrogative  faces  with  an  ironical 
calm,  "  the  price  of  the  pig ;  ivery  penny  of  it — 
that's  all." 

*' Och  man  alive,  don't  say  so,"  said  his  mother. 

"Saints  and  patience, how  iver would  she  happen 
to  go  do  such  a  thing?"  said  Judy  Ryan. 

"  You  lie,"  said  Mrs.  Quigley,  intending  to 
politely  convey  sympathy  mingled  with  amaze- 
ment. 

"  It's  truth  I  tellin'  yous,"  Brian  said  bitterly. 
"  Sure  when  we  were  about  comin'  on  be  the  Lough 
shore — and  the  wark  of  the  warld  we  had,  gittin* 
that  far  wid  th'ould  divilskins  of  a  hin,  that  kep' 
her  eye  cocked  to  be  flyin'  out  on  us  ivery  step  we 
wint — three  several  times  she  got  away  wid  herself, 
and  had  Mrs.  M'Gurk  'most  kilt  skirmishin'  after 
her,  meself  bein'  took  up  conthiOvilin'  the  pig — sure 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  269 

there  the  first  thing  I  beheld  was  Norah  and  Neily 
stoopin'  down  lookin'  for  we  couldn't  think  what 
aloncr  the  middle  of  the  road.  So  sez  I  to  her,  when 
we  come  up  :  'Is  it  musheroons  yous  are  gatherin' 
there,  woman?'  sez  I,  'or  maybe  you'd  politefully 
tell  us  whether  you're  weedin'  a  pitatie-bed  or 
vvalkin'  to  the  Town.'  And  wid  that  she  up  and 
began  givin'  me  all  sorts  for  not  tyin'  the  corner 
of  me  ould  hankycher  right,  so  as  the  money 
wouldn't  ha*  been  slippin'  out  an'  goin'  to  loss 
along  the  road.  For  she'd  carried  it  in  her  hand 
the  whole  way  along,  niver  let  go  of  it  for  an 
instiant,  and  when  she  thought  to  be  lookin*  to  see 
was  it  all  right,  and  she  comin'  into  the  Town,  me 
cowl  to  the  saints  if  the  knot  hadn't  slipped,  and 
niver  a  bawbee  was  mere  left  in  the  blamed  ould 
rag.  As  regardin'  the  tyin'  now,  I'd  ha'  been  ready 
to  take  me  oath  anywhere,  and  so  I  tould  her,  I 
done  it  safe  enough — But  there,  have  it  as  you  will, 
we've  made  a  good  job  of  it  between  the  two  of  us  : 
ivery  farthin'  gone." 

Here  everybody  pointed  out,  with  slight  verbal 
variations,  that  if  'twas  along  the  road  she'd  lost  it, 
he  might  have  a  great  good  chanst  of  gittin'  it  yit; 
any  person  might  be  findin'  it  passin'  by. 

"  Sure  I'm  just  after  goin*  over  ivery  step  of  it," 
he  responded,  hopclcssl)*,  "  and  ne'er  a  trace  any 
more  than  if  they'd  been  mcltin'  hailstones.    There 


270  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

was  the  ten-shillin'  bit,  that's  no  size  at  all,  it  would 
row!  away  into  nowhere  ;  I'd  niver  look  to  be  secin' 
sight  or  li;^^ht  of  it  agin  ;  but  I  was  thinkin'  I  might 
be  good  luck  ha'  lit  on  some  of  the  silver  and 
coppers — divil  a  one.  Howsome'er  if  I'd  picked  up 
so  much  as  a  couple  of  the  shillins,  mother  jewel, 
I'd  ha'  got  you  your  trifle  of  tay  and  sugar,  begor- 
rah  would  I,  whativer  else  might  be  takin'or  lavin', 
for  I  think  rael  bad  of  you  bein'  disappointed  of  it." 

"  Lord  love  you,  Brian  avic,  niver  go  for  to  be 
throublin'  your  mind  about  any  such  a  thing," 
piped  Mrs.  Kilfoyle.  She  had  been,  in  truth,  look- 
ing forward  incredibly  to  the  fragrant  cups  of  hot 
tea  with  which  it  was  an  open  secret  that  her  son 
purposed  to  provide  her  upon  acquiring  capital. 
'*  I  dunno  that  I've  e'er  a  fancy  these  times  to  be 
drinkin'  tay  at  all.  Ah  dear,  it's  a  terrible  heavy 
loss  on  you,  so  it  is,  the  both  of  yous,  but  plase 
God  you  might  git  it  agin.  And  anyways,  man 
dear,  there's  the  goat  you'd  twinty  different  minds 
about  sellin',  she  and  a  pair  of  the  young  bins  'ud 
mostly  fetch  you  the  price  of  a  wee  pig,  so  as  you 
wouldn't  be  at  the  loss  of  a  one  for  fattcnin',  wid  all 
the  waste  pitaties  comin'  in.  Sure  you're  dead  beat, 
child  alive,  wid  trampin'  it  in  the  sun's  blazes  ;  sit 
down  aisy  and  be  restiii'  j-ourself,  or  maybe  you  git 
a  bit  to  ait  first  in  the  house." 

•'  But  it's  steppin'  back  I  must  be  directly,"  said 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  271 

Brian,  "and  I  have  a  couple  of  could  pitaties  in  nic 
pocket  here  if  I  was  wantin'  any  thin'.  If  I  don't 
fetch  home  Norah,  she  and  Nelly  '11  be  for  scarchin' 
the  road  til.  this  time  to-morra." 

"Ah,  the  crathur,"  said  Mrs.  Kiifoyle,  "she's 
frettin'  herself,  you  may  depind.  If  you  do  a  bad 
turn  be  iver  such  an  accident,  you've  the  feelin 
'twas  your  own  fau't  all  the  while,  and  it's  cruel  dis- 
couragin',  forby  bein'  apt  to  start  you  argufyin'  and 
contindin'." 

Brian  presently  set  out  again  through  the  rich 
afternoon  light  with  his  fallen  fortunes.  He  felt 
but  slightly  consoled  by  his  mother's  suggestions, 
and  dawdled  on  slowly,  having  no  sense  of  a  defi- 
nite object  to  make  him  step  out.  After  a  while 
he  sat  down  and  ate  his  cold  potatoes,  in  which, 
likewise,  he  found  but  little  solace.  Then  as,  draw- 
ing near  Classon's  Boreen,  he  was  about  to  turn  off 
the  road  and  take  a  short  cut  across  a  "soft"  bit  of 
bog,  just  passable  in  dry  weather,  he  became  aware 
of  somebody  signalling  to  him  on  ahead.  If  the 
hour  had  been  later,  this  might  have  seemed  an 
alarming  incident,  but  in  the  clear  rays  where  we 
"scarcely  believe  much  more  than  we  can  see,"  he 
at  once  discerned  that  it  was  merely  Big  Anne, 
clumping  along  heavily- footed  with  her  market- 
basket. 

"  I  wonder   to   goodness    gracious   why  th'ould 


272  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

woman  can't  set  the  flat  of  her  feet  to  the  ground 
like  a  Christian,"  he  said  to  himself  while  he  went 
towards  her,  surveying  her  ungraceful  progress 
with  a  censorious  eye,  his  mood  being  attuned 
to  miscellaneously  adverse  criticism,  "  instead  of 
stomp-stompin'  that  fashion,  as  if  'twas  her  notion 
to  drive  home  a  two-inch  nail  wid  aich  step  she 
took." 

"  Have  you  got  it  yit,  Brian,  man  ?  "  she  inquired 
as  they  met. 

Brian  shook  his  head.  "Nor  niver  will,"  he  said 
supplementarily. 

"  Ah  well,  you  won't  be  so,"  Big  Anne  said  with 
confidence  ;  "it's  bound  to  be  somewheres.  'Tisn't 
as  if  'twas  a  poun'-note  that  might  blow  away  on 
you.  And  here's  your  bit  of  tay  and  sugar,"  she 
continued,  groping  among  the  contents  of  her 
basket.  "  I  thought  if  that  was  what  you  were 
goin'  after,  I'd  save  you  a  tramp." 

"Tay?"  repeated  Brian,  distractedly;  "tay? 
Sure  woman,  what  talkin'  have  you  of  tay,  and 
I  wid  niver  the  price  of  a  hap'orth  left  me  in 
creation  .'' " 

"  'T would  be  just  borryin'  a  loan  like,  till  you  can 
put  your  hand  on  your  money  agin,  and  the  mischief 
take  the  inconvenience  'twill  be  to  me  whativer. 
Troth,  I  don't  rightly  know  what  I  wanted  wid 
gittin'  it  at  all,  at  all,  for  Mad  Bell  she  won't  touch 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORIVARDS.  273 

e'er  a  drop  of  it,  and  it's  poor  wark,  taydrinkin', 
when  you  have  it  all  to  yourself.  On'y  me  ould 
pig  wint  better  than  common,  and  I  got  a  hould  of 
the  little  fellow  Pat  Ryan's  bringin'  along  for  me 
surprisin'  chape.  So  it  seemed  nathural  like  to 
git  a  pound  of  tay.  But  then  when  Mrs.  Brian 
tould  me  how  she  was  after  meetin'  the  misfortin 
to  mislay  all  the  bit  o'  money,  thinks  I  to  meself 
it  might  maybe  come  in  handy  for  you,  supposin' 
you  weren't  wishful  to  disappoint  you  poor  mother 
of  it  this  evenin',  and  she  belike  wid  her  mind 
set  on  havin'  a  sup.  Sure  Mrs.  Brian  was  tellin' 
me  she  noticed  her  this  mornin'  early,  dustin' 
herself  a  couple  of  the  cups  and  saucers  when 
she  thought  no  one  was  mindin',  to  have  them 
ready.  Fit  to  cry  your  wife  was,  too,  poor  woman, 
wid  the  notion  she'd  be  vexed  gittin'  none ;  though 
persuade  her  I — So  I  put  me  best  fut  forward  for 
'fraid  I'd  miss  you  comin'  back.  Faith,  there's  a 
power  of  heat  yit  in  that  sun  ! " 

"  'Twould  be  just  robbin'  you  downright,  neither 
more  nor  less,  if  we'd  take  it  off  of  you,"  said 
Brian,  wistfully  eyeing  the  dark-purple  parcels 
which  Big  Anne  had  by  this  time  fished  out  of  her 
basket.  "  Thank  you  kindly  all  the  same,  but 
I  couldn't  put  it  on  me  conscience  to " 

A  yell  suddenly  "  let"  fast  by  interrupted  them, 
and    hurtling   towards   them  o\cr  a  wet   tract  of 


274  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

glistening  pools  came,  with  kangaroo  like  bounds 
which  terminated  indifferently  in  land  or  water,  a 
Raffcrty  gossoon. 

"  Count  it,"  he  panted,  thrusting  something  into 
Brian's  hand;  "we  make  it  siventeen  and  fourpince, 
and  ould  Mrs.  Kiifoylc  sez  that's  right  VVhoo, 
buttcrfingers — you've  dropped  two  pinnies.  Faix, 
I  needn't  ha'  run  the  feet  off  of  me  legs,  if  you  on'y 
wanted  it  to  sling  about  the  road." 

"  And  where  in  the  name  of  iverythin'  else  did 
you  git  it  at  all  ?  "  said  Brian,  staring  bewildcredly 
at  his  recovered  wealth. 

"  Lyin'  in  our  window  at  home  it  was  ;  Nannie's 
after  findin*  it  just  now,  comin'  in  off  the  bog. 
They  was  sayin'  you'd  likely  laid  it  down  out 
of  your  hand  somehow,  afore  you  started  settin' 
out  this  mornin'." 

"  Be  the  piper,  sure  enough  I  was  up  there 
splicin'  the  handle  of  your  mother's  ould  basket, 
and  it's  then  I  must  ha*  overlooked  it.  Och 
murdher,  and  me  standin'  it  out  to  poor  Norah 
that  I'd  tied  it  up  most  particular  in  the  hanky- 
cher-corner,  so  as  it  hadn't  a  chanst  to  be  slippin' 
out  be  any  manner  of  means,  I  said  ;  and  that  part 
of  it  was  true  enough.  Bedad,  she'll  be  for  killin* 
me  alive  when  she  hears  tell ;  but  whether  or  no, 
I'm  a  proud  man  to  have  it  back.  1  must  be 
trottin   on   to   let   hei    know   it's    got,   for  cr}  in' 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  275 

her  eyes  out  disprit  the  crathur  was  the  last  sight 
I  saw  of  her.  So  you  perceive  I've  no  call  to  be 
throublin'  you  now  about  the  tay,  ma'am  ;  but  I'm 
highly  obligated  to  you  all's  one." 

"  And  what  hour  of  the  day  or  night  might  you 
be  expectin'  to  git  home  then  ?  "  said  Big  Anne, 
still  holding  her  rejected  packets  with  a  mortified 
air.  "  For  it's  not  far  from  sunsettin'  this  instiant 
minit ;  and  be  the  time  you've  got  down  to  the 
Town,  and  bought  your  tay  and  all,  and  legged  it 
back  agin  wid  Norah  and  little  Nelly,  that  can't 
overhurry  themselves,  'twill  be  fine  and  late. 
Bedad  it's  not  much  tay  your  mother'll  get  the 
drinkin'  of  this  night,  if  she's  to  wait  for  that ; 
she's  apt  to  be  in  her  siventh  sleep  afore  you 
come." 

Brian  stood  perplexed  by  conflicting  wishes. 
He  wanted  to  hasten  on  and  relieve  his  wife's 
mind,  and  he  wanted  his  mother  to  get  her  tea, 
and  he  wanted  to  have  the  pleasure  of  personally 
presenting  it  to  her.  However,  the  result  of  his 
deliberations  was  that  he  said:  "Well  then,  if  it 
wouldn't  be  to  inconvanience  you,  ma'am,  I'll  axe 
you  to  lave  it  up  at  our  house;  she'll  know  all 
about  it  And  that  would  be  what  I'm  owin'  you 
ma'am  " — he  counted  out  the  shillings  and  pennies 
upon  the  lid  of  her  basket,  and  she  swept  them 
into  it  half  reluctantly — "but  I'm  sure  I'm  much 


276  IRISH  ID  YLLS. 

beholden  to  you  ;  for  if  it  wasn't  on'y  for  you,  me 
inother'd  ha'  been  disappointed  of  her  bit  of  enjoy- 
ment this  night  any  way." 

He  set  off  jog-trotting,  and  Big  Anne  said  to 
the  lad :  "  Bill,  you  spalpeen,  you'll  skyte  home 
a  dale  quicker  than  I'll  be  stumpin'  it.  Take  the 
bit  of  tay  and  sugar  along  wid  you,  and  lave  it 
at  Mrs.  Kilfoyle's.  Just  slip  it  unbeknownst  on 
to  the  table,  if  nobody's  in  the  house,  and  then 
when  she  comes  in  she'll  be  findin'  it."  And  as 
she  toiled  stiffly  along  the  far-stretching  road,  a 
flourish  of  legs  and  arms  dwindling  in  front 
showed  her  that  Bill  was  speeding  on  his  errand. 

Up  at  Lisconnel,  meanwhile,  that  golden  aftei- 
noon  quietude  seemed  to  close  over  the  perturbing 
incidents  of  the  loss  and  recovery  of  the  Kilfoyles' 
shillings  as  serenely  as  the  still  waters  of  a  sun- 
shimmering  lake  close  again  over  a  fish's  leap. 
The  last  ripple  of  excitement  had  so  died  away 
that  the  elders  were  at  leisure  to  notice  some  slight 
symptoms  of  trouble  which  arose  among  an  adjacent 
cluster  of  small  children,  soon  after  Bill  Raffertj^ 
had  started  in  pursuit  of  Brian.  They  had  been 
playing  peaceably  together  for  a  long  time  in  a 
grassy  recess,  young  Kilfoyles  and  Quigleys  and 
Ryans,  but  now  some  sounds  of  whimpering  distress 
betokened  a  marring  of  harmony. 

"  Axrah   now,  what's   ai.lin'  yous   childer  ? "   in- 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS.  277 

quired  Judy  Ryan,  leaning  forward  to  overlook 
them  from  the  vantage  of  a  rather  higher  perch. 
Whereupon  Jim  Kilfoyle's  whimpering  developed 
into  a  pronounced  howl,  while  several  of  his  com- 
panions replied  shrilly  :  "Jim's  after  killin'  a  green 
beetle — he  trod  on  it  runnin'  about  and  kilt  it 
dead." 

"  And  what  made  him  go  for  to  do  that?  "  said 
Judy,  reprovingly  ;  "  sure  they're  dacint  gay- 
lookin'  little  things.  If  it  had  been  any  of  them 
black  basres  of  dowlduffs,  now,  there'd  ha'  been 
some  raison  in  it  ;  I'd  put  me  fut  on  one  of  them 
meself  fast  enough,  on'y  'twould  make  me  flesh 
creep  to  go  near  it.  I  thought  I  was  spyin'  a  sight 
of  one  stickin' his  hijis  head  out  between  them  two 
stones  a  while  ago — Ooch  ! "  Judy  gathered  her 
skirts  about  her  shuddcringly  at  the  recollection. 

"  I  believe  they're  but  inniciut  poor  crathurs  all 
the  while,  if  they  have  an  ugly  appearance  on  them," 
said  Mrs.  Quigley. 

"If  they  were  twyste  as  innicint,"  Judy  persisted, 
"I  wouldn't  touch  one  wid  a  forty-fut  pole.  And, 
morebetoken,  I  dunno  where  else  they'd  ha'  got 
such  a  way  of  cockin'  up  their  tails  at  you,  onless 
they  were  a  sort  of  divil." 

"I  didn't  go  for  to  do  it!"  Jim  said,  emerging 
temporarily  from  his  remorse  to  vindicate  his 
character.      "  It    ran    in    right    unacr   me    feet   a 


278  IRJSH  IDYLLS. 

purpose,  when  I  was  watchin'  for  it  twinklin'  in 
the  grass,  and  I  didn't  know  where  it  would  be 
com  in'  to." 

*'  He  was  the  greenest  beetle  I  iver  saw,"  said 
Rose  Ryan,  peering  at  the  glitter  of  emerald,  shot 
with  bronze  and  gold,  which  Katty  Sheridan  held 
ruefully  on  her  palm  ;  "  rael  purty  and  shiny  he 
was.  That  colour'd  look  lovely  in  a  string  of  beads." 

"  And  see  now  what  come  to  him  wid  it.  Rose,'' 
said  her  mother,  hortativeiy.  Rising  feminine 
vanity  need  never  suppose  that  repressive  morals 
will  not  be  drawn  for  its  behoof  because  it  lives 
remotely  in  the  far  west,  and  goes  on  bare  feet 
in  rags.  "Very  belike  he  was  that  sot  up  wid 
thinkin'  he  was  so  green  and  shiny,  he  didn't  mind 
where  he  was  goin',  and  there's  how  he  got  kilt. 
If  he  hadn't  been  runnin'  about  as  if  the  whole 
place  was  belongin'  to  him,  it  might  niver  ha' 
happint  him  at  all." 

"  Maybe  if  Danny  O'Beirne  was  at  home," 
speculated  Joe  Quigley,  "  he  could  ha'  set  it  goin' 
agin,  same  way  as  he  mended  up  the  inside  of 
widdy  M'Gurk's  ould  clock.  It  wouldn't  stir, 
and  nothin'  lookin'  to  be  ailin'  it,  till  he  gave  an 
odd  poke  or  so  to  the  wheels,  and  then  it  wint  on 
grand.  And  there's  no  great  signs  of  anythin' 
broke  in  the  beetle." 

"Och,  but  there's  no  life  left  in  him  whativer," 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORIVARDS.  379 

pronounced  Joe's  brother,  who  had  been  warily 
experimenting  with  a  daisy-stalk,  "  or  else  he'd  be 
wriijglin'  his  legs  like  mad  ivcry  time  you'd  tickle 
them." 

"  His  legs  do  be  very  black-lookin*,  mind  you," 
said  Katty,  who  seemed  to  consider  that  this 
physical  trait  materially  diminished  the  pathos 
of  the  situation.  She  dropped  the  creature  down 
on  the  grass,  and  the  regrets  roused  by  its  tragical 
fate  subsided  rapidly  into  oblivion. 

Only  Jim,  the  perpetrator  of  the  deed,  sat  still 
brooding  over  it  beside  the  body  of  the  slain,  a 
prey  to  the  limitless  remorse  of  five  years  old. 
As  the  other  children  moved  awa}-  from  the  place, 
he  remained  squatting  in  his  dejected  attitude  so 
long  that  his  grandmother  was  struck  by  it,  and 
said:  "What  ails  Jim,  I  wonder,  not  to  run  about 
vvid  the  others  ?     He's  apt  to  be  gittin'  sleepy." 

"  He's  liker  to  be  frcttin'  yit  about  disthroyin' 
of  the  beetle,"  said  Biddy  Ryan.  "Jim's  unnathural 
took  up  wid  bastes  of  the  kind.  His  mother  was 
tcllin'  me  the  other  day  he  come  into  her  some- 
whiles  wid  his  hands  full  of  ladybirds  and  motl  s 
and  such,  and  niver  one  of  them  hurted.  So  he's 
apt  to  think  bad  of  killin'  an)thin'." 

"Jim,"  said  old  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  "  I'm  goin'  in  to 
mind  the  fire,  and  when  I  come  out,  will  I  bring 
you  the  ould  salt-bottle  to  play  wid  a  bit  ?  " 


23o  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Jim's  state  of  depression  permitted  him  to  nod 
anly  a  joyless  and  disconsolate  assent.  Yet  the 
loan  of  this  article  was  generally  a  favour  much  in 
request.  A  relic  of  the  mythical  good  old  days, 
and  the  handiwork  of  Mrs.  Kilfoyle's  mother,  it 
was  a  smallish  glass  bottle,  to  whose  inner  sides 
were  mysteriously  applied  shreds  of  bright-coloured 
fabrics,  mostly  bits  of  the  apple-green  chintz  which 
had  made  her  own  wedding-gown.  The  bottle 
had  then  been  tightly  stuffed  with  salt,  which 
threw  out  the  brilliant  hues  on  a  pleasingly  white 
and  opaque  background  ;  and  though  now  some- 
what stained  and  discoloured  by  the  damps  of  so 
many  years,  it  still  remained  a  precious  heirloom 
in  the  Ililfoyle  family,  whose  resources  no  longer 
commanded  the  productions  of  decorative  art. 

"  Well,  I'll  bring  it  along  wid  me,  honey,"  said 
Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  getting  up  and  standing  beside  the 
child,  "and  if  I  was  you,  I'd  just  cover  the  poor 
beetle  up  comfortable  under  a  scrapeen  of  moss 
or  somethin'  and  let  it  be." 

"  I'd  liefer  he'd  lave  off  bein'  kilt,  and  git  skytin' 
about  the  same  way  he  was  before,"  said  Jim,  re- 
luctantly accommodating  himself  to  circumstances, 
and  beginning  to  grub  up  a  tiny  velvet  sod  ;  "  he 
does  be  that  shinin'  in  the  sun." 

"Maybe  it  might  yit,"  said  Mrs.  Kilfoyle,  "if 
'twas    left  in    paice,    and  not    interfered    wid.     It 


lACKWARDS  AND  FOR  1 1  'A  RDS  28 1 

might  ha'  come  to  itself,  and  you  rr.ight  be 
watchin'  it  runnin'  about  agin,  be  next  summer- 
time. Sure,  maybe  'tis  no  lie  I'm  tellin'  him  all 
the  while,"  the  little  old  woman  soliloquised,  as 
she  went  towards  her  shadowy  doorway  with  its 
haze  of  clear  blue  smoke,  "  for  it's  nary  a  know  I 
know  what's  gone  wid  the  spark  of  plisure  did  be 
in  the  crathur." 

That  night,  not  long  before  the  rising  of  the  moon, 
a  great  wing  of  feathery  white,  which  had  spread 
all  athwart  the  sky  at  sunset,  swept  away  to  the 
east,  and  the  stars,  till  then  visible  only  ghmmer 
by  glimmer,  blinking  far  up  behind  the  drifting 
plumes,  were  seen  to  have  mustered  in  one  of 
their  vastest  assemblies.  The  numberless  brilliance 
of  their  array  attracted  the  notice  of  two  wayfarers 
who  were  walking  along  the  bog-road  towards 
Lisconnel,  so  closely  muffled  by  the  rustling 
darkness  round  about  that  to  the  external  world 
they  seemed  merely  voices  and  footsteps. 

"They've  a  great  ould  crop  of  stars  up  there 
this  night,"  said  one  voice,  "  and  twinklin'  fit  to 
Ihrimble  themselves  out  of  their  houles." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  other,  "  I  wish  I'd  as  m.any 
shillins  in  me  pocket." 

"Talkin'  of  shillins,  I  wonder  did  Brian  Kilfnyle 
iver  git  the  hantle  of  money  he  was  after  losin'  on 
the  road." 

20 


28a  IPJSH  ID  YLLS. 

"0:1"i,  yi.s  he  Jid,  poor  man,  and  a  good  job  too 
He's  got  thioubles  enough  on  him  this  minit 
widout  any  more  misfortins." 

"  Why,  is  there  anything  gone  agin  the  Kilfoyles 
lately  ?  " 

"  Sure,  didn't  you  hear  tell  ?  The  ould  mother's 
just  died  on  him." 

"No,  bedad.  Is  it  ould  Mrs.  Kilfoyle?  Och 
wirrasthrevv,  the  poor  ould  woman.  And  what 
took  her  at  all  ? " 

"  Faix,  I  can't  tell  you.  She'd  just  stepped 
indoors  this  evenin'  to  put  her  pot  on  the  fire,  and 
some  of  them  comin'  in  a  while  afterwards,  it's 
dead  they  found  her  there.  Sure  she  was  a 
wonderful  great  age  entirely  this  long  while  back. 
The  life  was  ready  to  flutther  away  out  of  her  like 
the  bit  of  dovvn  sittin'  on  a  thistle  in  a  waft  of 
win'." 

"Eh,  but  Brian,  poor  man,  he'll  be  woful  put 
about.  He  was  always  thinkin'  a  hape  of  th'ould 
mother.  Sure,  when  I  met  him  dovvn  below  on'y 
this  mornin',  he  was  in  the  terriblest  takin'  at  all, 
because  he  couldn't  be  bringin'  her  some  little 
thrate  he'd  promised  her,  be  raison  of  losin'  his 
bit  of  money.  If  he'd  known  but  all,  he  needn't 
ha'  been  frettin'  himself  about  that." 

"  But  she  got  it  ;  be  good  luck  she  got  it  afore 
she  wint   And  belike  'twill  be  a  sort  of  satisfaction 


BACKWARDS  AND  FORWARDS,  283 

to  r)rian,  and  a  consowlmint  to  his  mind,  that  he 
done  her  the  last  thing  he  had  the  chanst  to. 
For  the  time  they  found  her,  there  she  was  sittin' 
wid  her  ould  taypot  on  her  lap,  that  she'd  raiched 
off  the  shelf,  and  she'd  the  poun'  parcel  of  tay 
opened,  as  if  she  was  intindin'  to  wet  herself  a 
drop." 

"  Och  now,  the  crathur,  to  think  of  that — Whisht 
— mesowl — whisht  man;  what  was  that  we  heard?" 

**  What  was  it  ?  Nothin'  but  a  plover  pipin* 
away  over  be  the  lough.  *Tis  a  powerful  dark 
night,  considerin'  the  sight  of  stars  that  are  out 
on  it ;  howsome'er  the  moon  '11  be  risin'  afore 
you're  home.  Bedad,  there  she  is  about  gittin' 
up  wid  herself  yonder,  where  the  light  sthrake's 
showin',  like  as  if  you'd  been  scrapin'  a  match  agin 
a  wall." 

"  So  she  is.  Prisintly  she'll  be  swimmin'  up 
meltin'  herself  in  the  light  like  a  bit  of  ice  in  clear 
water,  same  as  she  was  last  night,  and  then  I'll 
pick  me  way  back  finely.  Poor  Mrs.  Kilfoyle 
Heaven  shine  on  her  sowl  in  glory.  The  dacint 
poor  old  body  she  was,  and  always  wid  a  good 
word  for  ivery  one.  They'll  be  rael  annoyed  to 
hear  tell  of  it  at  our  place.  And  you'll  be  missin' 
her  many  a  day  up  at  Lisconnel ;  it's  a  great 
opinion  yous  all  had  of  her  entirely." 

"  Faith   and  we  had   then,  little   and   big.      But 


284  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

anyway  she's  got  the  best  of  it  over  us.      We'll 
do  well  enough,  if  so  be  we've  the  luck  to  slip 
off  as  aisy  when  we  come  to  quittinV 
"  Aye,  will  we,  plase  God." 


CHAPTER   X. 

COMING   AND    GOING. 

The  summer  following  Mrs.  Kilfoyle's  death  was, 
what  with  one  thing  and  another,  a  drearyish 
season  at  Lisconnel.  That  little  old  woman  had 
left  a  great  gap,  and  there  came  many  long  spells 
of  gloomy,  bad  weather,  which  seemed  to  beat 
people's  troubles  down  upon  them  as  the  damp 
drove  the  turf-reek  back  through  their  smoke-holes 
into  the  dark  rooms,  where  they  could  not  see  how 
dense  the  blue  haze  was  growing.  Stacey  Doyne's 
marriage  also  had  removed  something  young  and 
pleasant,  and  at  times,  when  the  thatch  dripped 
without  and  within,  neighbours  were  apt  to  talk 
about  her  in  tones  of  commiseration,  and  say,  "  Sure 
her  poor  mother's  lost  entirely."  So  that  towards 
autumn  the  distraction  of  some  new  residents'  ar- 
rival happened  rather  opportunely.  It  was  made 
possible  by  the  fact  that  Big  Anne  had  given  up 
her  holding  and  entered  into  partnership  with  the 


286  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

widow  M'Gurk.  thus  leaving  her  late  abode  empty 
for  another  tenant,  who  appeared  much  sooner  than 
any  one  might  have  anticipated  from  the  aspect  of 
the  cabin. 

Except  as  a  fresh  topic  of  conversation,  however, 
the  strangers  gave  small  promise  of  proving  an 
acquisition  to  the  community.  Lisconnel  did  not 
like  their  appearance  by  any  means,  and  further 
acquaintance  failed  to  modify  unfavourable  first 
impressions.  These  were  mainly  received  in  the 
course  of  the  day  after  their  arrival,  which  took 
place  on  a  night  too  black  for  anything  beyond  a 
shadowy  counting  of  heads,  and  a  perception  that 
the  bulk  of  the  new-comers'  household  stuff  had 
jogged  up  on  one  donkey,  and  must  therefore  be 
small.  A  portion  of  Big  Anne's  furniture  had  re- 
mained behind  her  in  the  cabin,  owing  to  certain 
arrears  of  rent ;  her  heart  was  scalded,  she  said, 
wid  the  prices  she'd  only  get  for  her  early  chuck- 
ens,  and  they  the  weight  of  the  world,  if  you'd 
feel  them  in  your  hand ;  and  poor  Mad  Bell,  that 
'ud  mostly  bring  home  a  few  odd  shillins  wid  her, 
was  away  since  afore  Christmas,  and  might  never 
show  her  face  there  agin,  the  crathur — a  bit  of 
narration  which  would  look  funny  enough  in  any- 
body's rental.  Mrs.  Ouigley,  who  went  to  the 
door  with  the  (jffer  of  a  fire-light,  found  it  shut, 
and  a  voice  inside  said,  "  as  onmannerly  as  you 


COMIXG  AND   GOING.  287 

plase,  '  No,  we've  matches,'  "  whereupon  another 
\  oice,  further  in  the  interior,  quavered,  "  Thank'ee 
kindly."  So  she  departed  little  wiser  than  she  had 
come.  But  daylight  showed  that  the  party  con- 
sisted of  an  old  man,  and  his  son,  and  his  son's  wife, 
and  her  sister,  and  three  small  children ;  besides 
some  cochin-china  fowl,  and  a  black  cat  with  viv- 
idly green  eyes.  This  much  was  apparent  on  the 
surface.  Also  that  the  old  man  was  frail,  bent, 
shrivelled,  and  civil  spoken,  that  the  son  was  "  a 
big  soft  gomeral  of  a  fellow,"  that  both  the  women 
were  sandily  flaxen-haired,  with  broad  fiat  cheeks 
and  light  eyes,  that  two  of  the  children  resembled 
them  in  an  infantine  way,  and  that  the  third,  a  girl 
a  trifle  older,  was  a  dark-haired,  disconsolate-look- 
ing little  thing,  "  wid  her  face,"  Mrs.  Brian  said, 
"  not  the  width  of  a  ha'penny  herrin',  and  the  eyes 
of  her  sunk  in  her  head."  As  for  the  fowl,  there 
could  be  no  doubt  that  their  "  onnathural  long 
flufTerty  legs  were  fit  to  make  a  body's  flesh  creep," 
and  the  cat  looked  "  as  like  an  ould  divil  as  any- 
thin'  you  ever  witnessed,  sittin'  blinkin'  atop  of  the 
turf-stack." 

Other  less  self-evident  facts  came  out  by  degrees, 
slower  than  might  have  been  expected,  as  the 
strangers  were  generally  close  and  chan,'  of  speecii. 
They  came  from  the  north,  v/here  their  affairs  had 
not  prospered ;    in  fact,  they  had  been  "  sold  up 


288  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

and  put  out  of  it,"  as  the  young  man  divulged  one 
day  to  Brian  Kilfoyle.  They  were  a  somewhat 
intricately  connected  family,  by  the  name,  predom- 
inantly, of  Patman.  The  sister-in-law  was  Tishy 
M'Crum,  which  seemed  simple  enough;  but  the 
two  light-haired  boys  were  Greens,  Mrs.  Patman 
having  been  a  widow,  while  the  little  girl  was  the 
child  of  a  wife  whom  Tom  Patman  had  already 
buried,  for  though  he  looked  full  young  to  have 
embarked  upon  matrimony  at  all,  this  was  his  sec- 
ond venture.  "And  it's  a  quare  comether  she  must 
ha'  been  after  puttin'  on  him,"  quoth  Mrs.  Quigley, 
"  afore  he  took  up  wid  herself,  that's  as  ugly  as  if 
she  was  bespoke,  and  half  a  dozen  year  oulder  than 
the  young  bosthoon  if  she's  a  minnit."  It  is  true 
that  at  the  time  when  Mrs.  Quigley  expressed  this 
unflattering  opinion  she  and  her  neighbours  had 
been  exasperated  by  an  impolite  speech  of  Mrs. 
Patman,  who  had  said  loudly  in  their  hearing: 
"  Well  for  sartin,  if  I'd  had  a  notion  of  the  blamed 
little  dog-hole  he  was  bringin'  us  into,  sorra  the 
sole  of  a  fut  'ud  I  ha'  set  inside  it;"  and  had  then 
proceeded  to  congratulate  herself  upon  having  left 
all  her  dacint  bits  of  furniture  up  above  at  her 
mother's,  so  that  she  needn't  be  bothered  wid 
cartin'  them  away  out  of  a  place  that  didn't  look 
to  have  had  ever  e'er  a  thing  in  it  worth  the  trouble 
of  movin',  not  if  it  stood  there  until  it  dropped 


COMING  AND   GOIXG.  289 

to  pieces  wid  dirt.  Mrs.  Quigley  rejoined  that  it 
would  be  a  great  pity  if  any  people  sted  in  a  place 
that  wasn't  good  enough  for  them,  supposin'  all 
the  while  they  knew  of  e'er  a  better  one ;  maybe 
they  might,  or  maybe  they  mightn't.  It  was  won'- 
erful  to  hear  the  talk  some  folks  had,  wid  every 
Quid  stick  they  owned  an  aisy  loodin'  for  Reilly's 
little  ass.  But  Judy  Ryan  with  a  flight  of  sarcastic 
fancy  hoped  that  Mrs.  Patman  and  her  family  were 
about  goin'  on  a  visit  to  the  Lady  Lifftinant,  be- 
cause it  was  much  if  they'd  find  any  place  else 
where  there'd  be  grandeur  accordin'  to  their  high- 
up  notions. 

Skirmishes  such  as  this,  however,  were  a  symp- 
tom rather  than  a  cause  of  the  Patmans'  unpopu- 
larity. That  sprang  from  several  roots.  For  one 
thing,  both  the  women  had  harsh,  scolding  voices, 
and  it  was  even  chances  that  if  you  passed  within 
earshot  of  their  cabin  you  would  hear  them  giving 
tongue.  Their  objurgations  were  as  a  rule  ad- 
dressed to  the  young  man  or  the  old,  the  latter 
of  whom  presently  grew  into  an  object  of  local 
compassion,  as  "a  harmless  dacint  poor  crathur," 
while  his  son  came  in  for  the  frank- eyed  looking 
down  upon  which  is  the  portion  of  an  able-bodied 
man  shrew-ridden  through  sheer  supineness  and 
"polthroonery."  Rut  what  Lisconnel  often  said 
that  it  "  thought  baddcr  of"  was  the  stepmotherly 


290  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

treatment  which  seemed  to  be  the  lot  of  the  little 
girl  Katty.  Of  course  the  situation  was  one  which 
under  the  circumstances  would  have  made  people 
believe  in  such  a  state  of  things  upon  the  slender- 
est evidence.  Still,  even  to  unprejudiced  eyes  it 
was  clear  that  Katty's  rags  were  raggeder  than 
those  of  her  small  stepbrothers,  and  that  she  crept 
about  with  the  mien  of  a  creature  which  has  con- 
ceived reasonable  doubts  respecting  the  reception 
it  is  likely  to  meet  in  society.  When  the  autumn 
weather  began  to  grow  wintry,  little  Katty  Pat- 
man,  "  perishin'  about  out  there  in  the  freezin' 
win',''  became  a  spectacle  which  was  viewed  with 
indignant  sympathy  from  dark  doorways  whence 
she  received  many  an  invitation  to  step  in  and  be 
warmin'  herself.  Her  hostesses  opined  that  she 
was  fairly  starved  just  for  a  taste  of  the  fire,  and 
didn't  believe  she  was  ever  let  next  or  nigh  it  in 
her  own  place.  Often,  too,  the  consideration  that 
she  had  no  more  flesh  on  her  bones  than  a  March 
chucken  led  to  the  bestowal  of  a  steaming  potato, 
or  a  piece  of  griddle-bread ;  but  the  result  of  this 
was  sometimes  unsatisfactory  to  the  giver,  Katty 
being  apt  to  darf  away  with  her  refreshments,  which 
she  might  presently  be  seen  sharing  among  Bobby 
and  Hughey,  for  whom  she  entertained  a  strong 
and  apparently  unreciprocated  regard. 

"  I  wouldn't  go  for  to  be  say  in'  any  thin'  to  set 


COMING  AND   GOING.  291 

her  agin  them,"  Mrs.  Brian  remarked  on  some  such 
occasion,  "  but,  goodness  forgive  me,  I've  no  likin' 
for  them  two  httle  brats;   I  misthrust  them." 

"Ah  sure  they've  no  sinse,"  said  Biddy  Ryan; 
"  where'd  they  git  it,  and  the  biggest  of  them,  I'd 
suppose,  under  four  years  ould  ?  " 

"Sinse?"  said  Mrs.  Quigley.  "  Bedad,  thin,  if 
sinse  was  all  that  ailed  them,  the  pair  of  them  is  as 
cute  as  a  couple  of  foxes.  I  mind  a  day  or  so  after 
they'd  been  in  it,  I  met  the  laste  one  on  the  road, 
and  I  comin'  home  wid  bechance  a  sugar-stick  in 
me  baskit.  So  just  to  be  makin'  friends  like,  I  gave 
it  a  bit  for  itself,  and  a  bit  for  the  other,  that  I  seen 
comin'  along.  Well  now,  ma'am,  if  it  had  took 
and  eat  up  the  both  bits,  I'd  ha'  thought  ne'er  a 
pin's  point  of  harm ;  'twould  ha'  been  nathural 
enough  to  the  size  of  it.  But  I  give  you  me  word, 
when  it  seen  it  couldn't  get  the  two  of  them  swal- 
lied  down  afore  its  brother  come  by,  what  did  it  go 
do  but  clap  the  one  of  them  into  a  crevice  in  the 
wall,  and  cover  it  under  a  blackberry  laif.  And 
wid  that  doun  it  squats  and  begins  sayin' :  '  Creely- 
crawly  snail — where's  the  creely-crawly  snail  I'm 
after  huntin'  out  of  its  hole  ? '  Lettin'  on  to  be 
lookin'  for  somethin'  creepin'  in  the  grass.  And  a 
while  after  it  came  slinkin'  back,  when  it  thought 
nobody  was  mindin',  to  poke  the  bit  out  of  the 
wall,  where  I  was  gathcrin'  dandelions  under  the 


292  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

bank.  So  while  it  was  fumblin'  about,  missin'  the 
right  crevice,  sez  I,  poppin'  up,  thinkin'  to  shame 
it :  '  Maybe  the  crawly  snail's  after  aitin'  it  on  you,' 
sez  I.  '  Och  yis,  I  seen  it,'  sez  the  spalpeen,  as 
brazen  as  brass.  '  Gimme  noder  bit  instid.'  There's 
a  schemin'  young  rapscallion  for  you." 

"They're  too  like  their  mother  altogether,"  said 
Judy  Ryan;  "the  corners  of  their  eyes  do  be  as 
sharp  as  if  they  were  cut  out  wid  a  pair  of  scis- 
sors. Not  that  I'd  mind  if  they'd  e'er  a  sthrake 
of  good-nature  in  them  ;  but  I  misdoubt  they  have. 
The  little  girl,  now,  is  as  diff'rint  as  day  and  night." 

"  If  sJie  takes  after  her  father,  she's  a  right  to 
want  the  wit  powerful,  misfortnit  little  imp,"  said 
Mrs.  Brian ;  "  for  if  he  isn't  a  great  stupid  gomeral 
and  an  ass,  just  get  me  one.  Why,  if  he  was  worth 
pickin'  out  of  a  dry  ditch,  he'd  purvint  of  his  own 
child  bein'  put  upon." 

"  Och,  they  have  him  frighted,'"  said  Mrs.  Quig- 
ley,  with  scornful  emphasis ;  "  they  won't  let  him 
take  an  atom  of  notice  of  her,  they're  that  jealousy. 
Sure,  if  he  gets  talkin'  to  her  outside  the  house 
there,  one  of  them  'ill  let  a  bawl  and  send  him  off 
to  be  carryin'  in  turf  or  wather;  I've  seen  it  times 
and  agin." 

"  If  he'd  take  and  sling  it  about  their  ears  some 
fine  day,  he'd  be  doin'  right,  and  it  might  larn 
them  to  behave  themselves,"  said  Judy. 


COMING   AND    GOING.  293 

"  But  the  ould  man  would  disgust  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Quigley,  "  wid  the  romancin'  he  has  out  of 
him  about  his  son  Tom.  You'd  suppose,  to  hsten 
to  him,  that  the  omadhawn's  aquil  never  .stepped. 
He'll  deive  you  wid  it  till  you're  fairly  bothered. 
Troth,  he  thinks  the  young  one's  doin'  somethin' 
out  of  the  way  if  he  just  walks  down  the  street, 
and  expecs  everybody  to  stand  watchin'  him  goin' 
along.  It's  surprisin'  the  foolery  there  does  be  in 
people." 

"  Och  murdher,  women  alive,"  said  Ody  RafTer- 
ty,  whose  pipe  went  out  at  this  moment,  "  there's 
no  contintin'  yous  at  all.  It's  too  cute  they  are, 
and  too  foolish  they  are.  Musha,  very  belike 
they're  not  so  much  ofT  the  common,  if  you'd  a 
thrifle  more  experience  of  them ;  there's  notliin' 
to  match  that  for  evenin'  people.  Bedad,  now, 
there's  some  people  /  know  so  well  that  I  can 
scarce  tell  the  one  from  the  other." 

Lisconnel,  however,  generally  declined  to  fall  in 
with  Ody's  philosophical  views,  and  the  Patmans, 
whether  suspected  of  excessive  cuteness  or  folly, 
remained  persistently  unpopular.  There  was  only 
one  exception  to  this  rule.  The  widow  M'Gurk 
has  a  certain  fibre  of  perversity  in  her,  which  some- 
times twists  itself  round  unlikely  objects,  for  no 
apparent  reason  save  that  they  are  left  clear  by 
her  neighbours ;   and  this  peculiarity  renders  her 


294  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

prone  upon  occasion  to  undertake  the  part  of  Dev- 
il's Advocate.  When,  therefore,  she  had  once 
delivered  herself  of  the  opinion  that  the  new- 
comers were  "  very  dacint  folks,"  she  did  not  feel 
called  upon  to  abandon  it  because  it  stood  alone. 
As  grounds  for  it  she  commonly  alleged  that  they 
were  "  rael  hard-workin'  and  industhrious,"  which 
was  obviously  true  enough,  since  Mrs.  Patman  and 
her  sister  might  constantly  be  seen  tilling  their 
little  field  with  an  energy  far  beyond  the  capacity 
of  its  late  tenant.  Her  neighbours'  unimpressed 
rejoinder,  "Well,  and  supposin'  they  are  itself?" 
did  not  in  the  least  disconcert  the  widdy,  nor  yet 
their  absence  of  enthusiasm  when  she  stated  that 
it  was  "  a  sight  to  behould  Tishy  M'Crum  diggin' 
over  a  bit  of  ground ;  she'd  lift  as  much  on  her 
spade  as  any  two  men."  As  for  little  Katty, 
"  she'd  never  seen  anybody  doin'  anythin'  agin 
the  child ;  it  might  happen  by  nature  to  be  one  of 
those  little  crowls  of  childer,  that  'ud  always  look 
hungry-like  and  pinin',  the  crathurs,  if  you  were 
able  to  keep  feedin'  them  wid  the  best  as  long  as 
the  sun  was  in  the  sky."  In  short,  something 
more  than  talk  was  usually  needed  to  put  the 
widow  M'Gurk  out  of  conceit  with  any  notion  she 
had  taken  up.  Perhaps  the  comparative  aloofness 
of  her  hill-side  cabin  helped  to  maintain  the  Pat- 


COMING  AND   GOING.  295 

mans  at  their  original  high  level  in  her  estimation. 
.At  any  rate,  they  had  not  sunk  from  it  by  the 
time  that  they  had  been  nearly  three  months  in 
Lisconnel,  and  when  Mrs.  Patman  and  her  sister 
were  on  terms  of  the  very  glummest  civility  with 
all  the  other  women  in  the  place.  Even  towards 
the  widow  M'Gurk  they  were  tolerant  rather  than 
expansive ;  she  said,  "  They  done  right  enough 
not  to  be  leppin'  down  people's  throaths." 

One  morning  not  long  after  Christmas,  the 
widow,  being  bound  on  an  errand  down  below, 
called  in  at  the  Patmans'  with  a  view  to  possible 
commissions.  Meal  was  wanted,  and  while  Tishy 
M'Crum  stitched  up  a  rent  in  the  bag  Mrs.  M'Gurk 
noticed  where  little  Katty,  who  had  been  "  took 
bad  wid  a  could  these  three  days,"  rustled  uncom- 
fortably among  wisps  of  rushes  and  rags  in  an 
obscure  corner.  Fever  made  her  bold  and  self- 
assertive,  for  she  was  wishing  nothing  less  than 
that  her  daddy  would  get  her  an  orange.  "An 
or'nge  wid  yeller  peel  round  it " — Katty  laid  stress 
on  this  point — like  the  one  hei  mammy  got  her 
a  long  time  ago.  And  daddy'd  be  a  good  daddy 
and  get  her  another  now.  And  she'd  keep  a  bit 
for  Bobby  and  Hughey  and  all  of  them. — A  big 
yeller  or'nge.  Katty's  eyes  blazed  with  excite- 
ment as  she  reiterated  these  desires. 


296  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"  She's  got  an  uncommon  fancy  for  a  one,"  said 
her  daddy,  looking  wistfully  from  the  child  to  his 
wife. 

"They  have  them  down  below,"  suggested  the. 
widow,  "  pence  a  piece." 

Mrs.  Patman's  hand  was  slipping  towards  her 
pocket :  "  If  it  was  just  for  onst  " — she  had  begun, 
when  Tishy  tweaked  her  sleeve  viciously,  and  in- 
terpolated a  rapid  whisper:  "  It  won't  be;  there'll 
be  no  ind  to  it  if  you  begin  humourin'  them;"  so 
the  sentence  was  badly  dislocated.  "  She'll  do  a 
dale  better  widout  any  such  thrash,"  said  Mrs.  Pat- 
man,  and  walked  off  to  throw  sods  on  the  fire. 

Just  then  the  widow  became  aware  that  old  Joe 
Patman  was  grimacing  at  her  from  a  corner  fast 
by  in  a  way  which  might  have  startled  her  had 
she  not  been  familiar  with  such  modes  of  beckon- 
ing. But  when  she  obeyed  his  summons,  what 
she  saw  astounded  her  outright,  for  Joe  was  stoop- 
ing over  a  leathern  pouch,  which  he  had  drawn 
from  a  wall-cranny,  and  which  seemed  to  contain 
marvellous  depths  of  silver  money,  with  here  and 
there  a  golden  gleam  among  it,  as  he  warily  stirred 
it  up,  circling  a  hurried  forefinger.  She  had  only 
the  briefest  glimpse  ere  he  shoved  back  the  pouch 
and  thrust  a  sixpence  into  her  hand,  muttering, 
"  Git  her  the  orange — don't  be  lettin'  on,  for  your 
life."     As  she  turned  away  with  a  reassuring  nod, 


COMING  AND   GOING.  ^c^-j 

she  perceived  that  Tishy  M"Crum  was  standing 
unexpectedly  near,  and  looking  towards  them  over 
the  top  of  the  meal-bag.  Tishy  was  biting  off  a 
loose  end  of  thread,  which  gave  her  a  determined 
and  ferocious  expression,  but  whether  she  could 
have  seen  anything  or  not  the  widow  felt  uncertain. 
She  thought  not. 

About  ten  days  after  this,  Mrs.  M'Gurk  was 
roused  at  a  very  early  hour  by  a  thumping  on  her 
door.  When  she  opened  it,  she  found  some  diffi- 
culty in  recognising  her  ^■isitor,  as  the  dawn  had 
scarcely  done  more  than  dim  a  few  stars  far  away 
in  the  east,  which  is  an  ineflfective  form  of  illumi- 
nation. "  Whethen  now,  Joe  Patman,  is  it  your- 
self?" she  said  peeringly.  "And  what's  brought 
yon  out  at  all  afore  you  can  see  a  step  or  a  stim  ? 
Is  the  little  girl  took  worse?  "  For  Katty's  illness 
still  continued  and  had  grown  rather  serious. 

"Sure  no,"  said  the  old  man;  "Katty's  just 
pretty  middlin'.  But  it's  waitin'  I've  been  the 
len'th  of  the  mornin',  till  'twould  turn  broad  day- 
light, before  I'd  be  disturbin'  of  you,  ma'am,  to 
tell  you  the  quare  sort  of  joke  they're  after  playin' 
on  me  down  yonder." 

"  Saints  above,  man,  what  talk  have  you  of  jok- 
in'  at  this  hour  of  the  day  or  night?"  said  Mrs. 
M'Gurk,  feeling  the  unseasonableness  acutely,  as  a 
bitter  gust  came  swooping  up  the  slope,  and  indis- 


298  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

criminatingly  ruffled  the  rime-dusted  grass-tufts 
and  her  own  grizzled  locks. 

"  Och  bejabers,  it's  a  great  joke  they  have  agin 
me  whatever,"  said  old  Patman,  who  was  shivering 
much,  with  cold  partly,  and  partly  perhaps  with 
amusement.  "  You  see  the  way  of  it  was,  last 
night,  no  great  while  after  we'd  all  gone  asleep,  I 
woke  up  suddint,  like  as  if  wid  the  crake  of  a 
door,  or  somethin',  but  whatever  it  might  be,  'twas 
slipped  beyond  me  hearin'  afore  I'd  got  me  sinses 
rightly.  So  I  listened  a  goodish  bit,  and  somehow 
everythin'  seemed  unnathural  quite,  till  I  heard 
Katty  fidgettin',  and  I  went  over  to  see  would  she 
take  a  dhrink  of  wather.  The  Lord  presarve  us 
and  keep  us,  ma'am,  if  all  the  rest  of  them  hadn't 
quit — quit  out  of  it  they  have,  and  left  us  clever 
and  clane." 

"  Ah  now,  don't  be  romancin',  man,"  said  the 
widow,  remonstrantly.  "  What  in  the  name  of  the 
nation  'ud  bewitch  any  people  to  go  rovin'  out  of 
their  house  in  the  middle  of  the  black  night,  wid 
the  frost  thick  on  the  ground?  " 

"Quit  they  are,"  said  the  old  man.  "Tom's 
gone,  and  the  wife,  and  every  man  jack  of  them. 
They've  took  the  couple  of  chuckens  I  noticed 
Tishy  killin'  of  yisterday  —  begorrah,  I  believe 
they've  took  Tib  the  cat,  for  ne'er  a  sign  of  it  I 
see  about  the  place,  that   would  mostly  be  sittin' 


COMING  AND   GOING.  299 

cocked  up  on  the  dresser.  Goodness  guide  us, 
sorra  a  sowl  there  is  in  the  house  but  the  two  of 
us,  me  and  the  child,  and  she's  rael  bad.  It's  a 
quare  ould  joke." 

"  It  'ud  be  the  joke  of  a  set  of  ravin'  mad  peo- 
ple," said  the  widow. 

"  But  the  best  of  it  is,"  he  went  on,  "  do  you 
mind,  ma'am  " — he  looked  round  him  suspiciously 
and  lowered  his  voice — "  the  leather  pooch  you 
might  ha'  seen  wid  me  the  other  day  ?  " 

"Whoo!"  said  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  "are  they  after 
takin'  that  on  you  ?  Sure,  man,  I  thought  you 
had  it  unbeknownst." 

"Aye,  it's  took,"  old  Patman  said;  "but  how 
she  grabbed  it  I  dunno,  unless,  I  was  thinkin',  be 
any  chance  you  mentioned  somethin'  about  it." 

"  Divil  a  bit  of  me  did,"  averred  the  widow,  with 
truth,  which  her  hearer  accepted ;  "  and  how  much 
might  you  have  had  in  it  at  all?  " 

"  Troth,  I  couldn't  be  tellin'  you,"  he  said,  "  I 
never  thought  to  count  it.  'Tis  just  for  a  pleasure 
to  meself  I  keep  it.  This  long  while  back  I've  put 
ne'er  a  penny  in  it,  but  when  we  used  to  be  livin' 
up  at  Portnafoyle,  I'd  slip  in  the  odd  shillins  now 
and  agin,  and  sometimes  I'd  think  'twould  be 
handy  for  bury  in'  me,  and  other  times  I'd  think 
I'd  give  it  to  Tom  as  soon  as  I'd  gathered  a  trifle 
more,  on'y  some  way  the  thought  of  partin'  wid  it 


300  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

'ud  seem  to  go  agin  me,  and  since  poor  Tom  made 
a  match  wid  Martha  M'Crum,  'tis  worse  agin  me  it 
goes.  'Tis  that  good-for-naught  weasel  of  a  slie- 
veen  Tishy's  after  conthrivin'  it  on  me,"  quoth  the 
old  man,  with  a  sudden  spasm  of  resentment. 
"Tom  'ud  never  play  such  a  thrick — I  mane  it 
wasn't  he  invinted  the  joke ;  he  doesn't  throuble 
himself  much  wid  jokin' ;  he's  too  sinsible,  and 
steady,  and  perspicuous,  and  uncommon  set  on  me 
and  the  child.  There's  no  better  son  in  Ireland. 
Och,  but  the  rest  of  them  mane  no  harm  wid  it ; 
they're  just  schemin'  to  drop  in  presintly  and  be 
risin'  a  laugh  on  me." 

Steps  which  were  promptly  taken  to  verify  old 
Joe  Patman's  strange  story  proved  it  to  be  correct 
in  every  particular.  The  only  fresh  fact  which 
they  brought  to  light  was  the  presence  of  a  five- 
shilling  piece  lying  on  the  dresser,  where  Joe  had 
overlooked  it  in  the  early  dusk.  All  the  other  in- 
mates, chuckens  and  cat  included,  had  disappeared, 
and  with  them  most  of  the  few  movables ;  the  old 
man  and  the  sick  child  being  left  as  forlorn  fixtures, 
Lisconnel  at  large  was  neither  slow  nor  circumloc- 
utory in  forming  and  expressing  its  opinion  as 
touching  the  nature  of  the  joke,  a  firm  belief  in 
which  old  Joe  resolutely  opposed  to  his  troubles  as 
they  thickened  around  him.  For  no  tidings  came 
from  the  absentees  or  were  heard  of  them,  while 


COMING  AND   GOING.  301 

Katty's  fever  ran  so  high  that  it  seemed  likely  he 
would  be  at  small  further  charges  on  her  account 
— a  prospect  which,  however  financially  sound  for 
a  capitalist  of  five  shillings  or  under,  none  the  less 
filled  his  soul  with  grief.  Then,  one  night,  when 
Katty  was  at  her  worst,  a  great  gale  came  rushing 
and  roaring  across  the  bog,  and  when  the  day 
broke,  it  discovered  the  Patmans'  brown  thatch- 
slope  interrupted  by  a  gaping  crevasse,  over  which 
a  quick-plashing  rain-sheet  quivered. 

The  widow  M'Gurk  had  less  spare  room  than 
heretofore  at  her  disposal  now  that  she  harboured 
a  co-tenant,  with  a  slight  accession  of  tables  and 
chairs.  Yet  she  made  out  a  dry  corner  for  the 
child  and  her  grandfather,  who  accepted  these 
quarters  in  preference  to  any  others,  because  the 
widow,  whatever  may  have  been  her  private  views, 
was  prevented  by  a  mixture  of  contrariness  and 
magnanimity  from  joining  in  the  general  denun- 
ciation of  her  former  allies,  compromising  as  were 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  had  elected  to 
take  their  departure.  In  her  society,  therefore,  he 
was  not  fain  to  overhear  trenchant  criticisms  upon 
Tom's  behaviour,  and  could  dilate,  at  least  uncon- 
tradicted, upon  those  gifts  and  graces  in  the  young 
man  which  recent  events  had  placed  in  some  need 
of  exposition.  Other  disquieting  voices  there  were, 
however,  which  he  could  not  dodge,  and  they  spoke 


302  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

louder  every  day.  For  his  five  shillings  were  melt- 
ing, dwindling — had  vanished  ;  and  Lisconnel,  with 
the  best  will  in  the  world,  could  ill  brook  a  burden 
of  two  incapables  more  laid  upon  its  winter  penury. 
No  word  on  the  subject  had  reached  the  old  man's 
outer  ears,  but  as  Katty  struggled  slowly  and  frac- 
tiously  towards  convalescence,  it  became  clearer  in 
his  mind  that  unless  something  happened,  she  must, 
when  well  enough  to  be  moved,  seek  change  of  air 
away  at  the  big  House.  Perhaps  this  prospect 
was  more  constantly  before  him  than  even  the 
thought  of  Tom's  filial  virtues,  as  he  sat  drearily 
on  the  bank  by  widow  M'Gurk's  door.  He  might 
often  be  seen  to  shake  his  head  despondently,  and 
then  he  was  saying  to  himself :  "  Belike  he  thought 
bad  of  me  keepin'  the  bit  of  money  unbeknownst." 
By  that  time  he  had  abandoned  the  joke  theory, 
and  fixed  his  hopes  upon  the  arrival  of  a  letter  to 
explain  the  mysterious  nocturnal  flitting,  and  say 
whither  they  had  betaken  themselves  after  passing 
through  Duffclane,  the  furthest  point  to  which  the 
detective  forces  of  the  district  had  tracked  the 
party.  Young  Dan  O'Beirne,  whose  work  brought 
him  daily  up  from  down  below  to  the  forge  half- 
way towards  Lisconnel,  had  safely  promised  to 
convey  this  letter  so  far  whenever  it  came ;  and 
on  many  a  day  the  neighbours  nodded  commiser- 
atingly  to  one  another  as  they  saw  "  the  ould  era- 


COMING  AND   GOING.  303 

thur  settin'  off  wid  himself  "  in  quest  of  it.  The 
prompt  January  dusk  would  have  already  fallen 
before  he  struggled  up  the  knockawn,  to  be  greeted 
by  the  widow  in  the  tone  of  marked  congratulation 
which  our  friends  sometimes  adopt  when  all  reason 
for  it  is  conspicuously  absent :  "  Well,  man  alive, 
there  wouldn't  be  e'er  a  letter  in  it  this  day  any- 
way." 

"  Och,  tubbe  sure,  not  at  all,"  he  would  answer 
cheerfully.  "  I  wouldn't  look  to  there  bein'  e'er  a 
one  sooner  than  to-morra.  I  hadn't  the  notion 
of  expectin'  a  letter  whatever.  'Twas  just  for  the 
enjoyment  of  the  bit  of  a  walk  I  went." 

"  Why,  tubbe  sure  it  was.  But  be  comin'  in, 
man,  for  you're  fit  to  drop,  and  be  gettin'  your 
ould  brogues  dried.  Och,  man,  you're  dhrounded 
entirely  ;  'tis  a  mighty  soft  evenin'  it's  turnin'  out." 

"  And  here's  Katty  lookin'  out  for  you  this  great 
while,"  Big  Anne  would  say ;  "  she's  finely  this 
night,  glory  be  to  goodness." 

Affairs  were  much  in  this  posture,  when  the 
widow  was  one  day  perplexed  by  the  occurrence 
of  two  small  incidents.  In  the  first  place,  as  she 
was  starting  on  an  expedition  to  the  town  she  saw 
at  a  little  distance  something  run  across  the  road 
which  looked  uncommonly  like  the  Patmans'  black 
cat  Tib.  Lisconnel  owns  no  other  cats  for  which 
she  might  have  mistaken  it ;   still,  as  she  was  puz- 


304  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

zled  to  think  how  the  creature  should  have  hidden 
itself  away  for  more  than  a  fortnight,  she  concluded 
that  she  had  been  deceived  by  some  fluttering  bird 
or  glancing  shadow.  In  the  next  place,  she  hap- 
pened in  the  town  upon  one  Larry  Donnelly,  who 
in  the  course  of  conversation  remarked :  "  So 
you've  that  young  Patman  back  wid  yous  agin. 
What  took  him  to  be  leggin'  oflf  wid  himself  that 
way?  " 

"  And  what  put  that  in  your  head  at  all?  "  said 
the  widow.  "  Light  nor  sight  we've  seen  of  him, 
or  a  one  of  them,  or  likely  to.  It's  off  out  of  the 
counthry  he  is,  belike,  and  he  after  robbin'  his  ould 
father,  that's  niver  done  talkin'  foolish  about  him, 
and  lavin'  his  innicent  child  to  go  starvin'  into  the 
Union — bad  luck  to  him."  She  found  a  free  ex- 
pression of  her  sentiments  rather  refreshing  after 
the  restrictions  under  which  she  was  placed  at 
home. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Donnelly,  "  I'd  have  bet  me 
pair  of  best  brogues  I  seen  that  chap  a  couple  of 
nights  ago  streelin'  along  the  road  down  about  our 
place ;  but  'twas  darkish  enough,  and  I  might  aisy 
be  mistook." 

The  widow  pondered  much  over  this  statement 
on  her  homeward  way,  but  had  the  forbearance 
to  say  nothing  about  it.  She  was  still  undecided 
whether  or  no  she  would  communicate  it  to  any- 


COMING  AND   GOING.  305 

body,  when,  next  morning,  on  her  way  for  a  can 
of  water,  she  saw  the  black  cat,  unmistakable  this 
time,  run  across  the  road,  and,  as  on  the  day  before, 
make  off  over  the  bog  towards  the  little  river. 
Widow  M'Gurk  stood  staring  after  it  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  came  to  a  resolution.  Then  she 
looked  about  her,  and  w^as  aware  of  Andy  Sheri- 
dan's head  leaning  against  his  doorpost.  Of  Andy 
her  opinion  was,  as  we  have  seen,  rather  low,  but 
she  could  descry  no  other  person  available  for  her 
purpose,  so  she  called  to  him :  "Andy  lad,  I'm 
goin'  after  me  two  pullets  that's  strayed  on  me ; 
come  and  be  givin'  me  a  hand."  Andy  lounged 
over  to  her  good-naturedly,  and  they  turned  into 
the  bog,  where  Ody  Rafferty  presently  joined 
them.  The  widow  thought  her  fowl  might  be 
among  the  broken  ground,  w^here  the  stream  runs 
at  the  back  of  the  knockawn,  and  the  three  went 
in  that  direction.  It  was  a  mild,  soft,  grey  morn- 
ing, and  they  met  with  neither  stir  nor  sound,  till 
they  came  abruptly  upon  a  grassy  hollow,  shut  in 
by  furzy  banks,  and  fronted  by  the  running  water; 
and  then  the  widow,  who  alone  had  been  expect- 
ing the  unexpected,  uttered  a  suppressed  screech, 
and  said :  "  Och  boys  dear,  goodness  gracious 
guide  us!" 

What  they  saw  was  the  figure  of  a  man  in  a  long 
great-coat,  "  crooched  all  of  a  hape "   under  the 


3o6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

bank.  Near  him  were  ranged  in  a  row  half  a 
dozen  oranges,  striking  up  a  wonderful  golden 
glow.  A  small  grimy  scrap  of  paper  was  spread 
out  near  them,  covered  with  several  piles  of  shil- 
lings and  pennies,  and  a  silver  thimble.  Beside 
these  Tib  the  black  cat  sat  severely  tucked  up, 
apparently  dissatisfied  and  irked  by  the  situation. 
At  the  widow's  exclamation  the  man  raised  his 
head,  and  was  seen  to  be  Tom  Patman,  looking 
haggard  and  dazed,  and  as  hollow-eyed  as  little 
Katty  herself.  Widow  M'Gurk  and  Ody  and  Andy 
stood  in  a  line  facing  him. 

"  Whethen  now,  Tom  Patman,"  said  Ody,  "  and 
what  might  j'^//  be  doin'  wid  yourself?" 

"  I'm  sittin'  here,"  said  Tom. 

"  Och  musha,  tell  us  somethin'  we  don't  know 
then.  Sittin'  there  you  are,  sure  enough,  but  what 
the  mischief  are  you  after,  might  I  politely  ax  ?  or 
what  you  mane  by  it,  at  all  at  all?  " 

"  I'm  sittin'  here,"  said  Tom  again,  "  and  starvin' 
I  am;  and  sittin'  and  starvin'  I'll  be  morebetoken 
till  the  end  of  me  ould  life.  Sure  what  else  'ud  I 
be  doin',  and  meself  to  thank  for  it,  wid  never  a 
sowl  left  belongin'  me  in  the  mortial  world,  nor  a 
place  to  be  goin'  to?  " 

"  Well,  tubbe  sure,"  said  Mrs.  M'Gurk,  "  if  that 
talk  doesn't  bate  all  that  ever  I  heard !  And  him- 
self after  trapesin'  off  as  permiscuous  as  an  ould 


COMING  AND    GOING.  307 

hin  that  won't  sit  on  her  eggs,  and  lavin'  his  own 
flesh  and  blood  behind  him  as  if  they  were  the  dust 
on  the  road.  And  then  he  ups  and  gives  chat 
about  niver  a  sowl  bein'  left  him." 

"  'Twas  Tishy — bad  cess  to  her,"  said  Tom. 
"  Och,  but  it's  the  mischievous  ould  divilskins  is 
Tishy  M'Crum  ;  and  it's  herself  stirred  up  Martha, 
that  wouldn't  be  too  bad  altogether  if  she'd  be  let 
alone,  till  the  two  of  them  had  me  torminted  wid 
tellin'  me  th'  ould  man  had  pots  of  money  he'd 
niver  spend  as  long  as  he  had  us  to  be  livin'  on ; 
and  that  we'd  all  do  a  dale  better  if  some  of  us 
slipped  away  aisy  widout  risin'  a  row,  and  left  him 
for  a  bit,  while  we'd  be  sellin'  Martha's  things,  and 
seein'  about  gettin'  into  a  dacint  little  place,  instid 
of  the  whole  of  us  to  be  starvin'  alive  up  at  Liscon- 
nel,  that's  nothin'  more  than  a  bog  bewitched  ;  and 
he  after  lettin'  us  be  sold  up,  they  said,  and  all  the 
while  ownin'  mints  of  money,  so  that  we'd  no  call 
to  be  overly  partic'lar  about  lavin'  him  to  make  a 
shift  along  wid  the  child,  if  'twas  a  convenience, 
on'y  he'd  be  risin'  a  quare  whillabaloo  if  he  knew 
we  were  goin'  anywhere.  Troth,  I  couldn't  tell 
you  the  gabbin'  they  had  day  and  night — and 
showin'  me  the  place  he  kep'  his  bag  hidden  in — 
and  this  way  and  that  way.  Och  bedad,  them- 
selves 'ud  persuade  the  hair  on  your  head  it  grew 
wrong  side  out,  if  they'd  a  mind  to  it." 


3o8  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

"They  might  so,"  said  Ody,  "  supposin'  I  was 
great  gomeral  enough  to  be  mindin'  a  word  they'd 
say  or  the  likes  of  them."  In  his  subsequent  re- 
ports of  the  interview,  Ody  always  alleged  that  he 
had  replied :  "Aye,  very  belike,  supposin'  it  grew 
on  the  head  of  an  ass,"  which  was  certainly  neater. 
But  Ody  Rafferty's  repartees,  like  those  of  other 
people,  are  occasionally  belated  in  this  way. 

"  So  the  ind  of  it  was,"  Tom  went  on,  "  nothin* 
else  'ud  suit  them  except  gettin'  all  readied  up  for 
us  to  be  slinkin'  out  in  the  evenin'  late.  Faith, 
I'd  twenty  minds  in  me  heart  agin  quittin'  little 
Katty,  and  she  that  bad.  Howane'er,  they  swore 
black  and  white  that  me  father'd  be  spendin'  all 
manner  of  money  on  her  when  he  got  us  out  of  it, 
and  we  were  to  be  writin*  for  them  to  come  after 
us  as  soon  as  we  were  settled,  and  everythin'  agree- 
able— so  I  went  along.  But  if  I  did,  ma'am,  sure 
when  they'd  got  the  bits  of  furniture  sold,  the  on'y 
notion  they  had  was  to  be  settin'  off  to  make  for- 
tins  in  the  States,  and  ne'er  a  word  about  Katty 
and  the  ould  man.  Och,  they  had  me  disthracted ; 
outrageous  they  were ;  and  that  ould  thief  of  the 
world  Tishy  allowin'  me  sorra  a  penny,  so  as  I 
mightn't  ha'  been  bound  to  stop  where  I  was. 
But  one  day  they  thought  they  had  me  asleep  in 
the  room-corner,  and  the  two  of  them  was  colloguin' 
away  at  the  table,  so  all  of  a  suddint  Tishy  whips 


COMING  AND   GOING.  30^ 

out  me  poor  father's  bag,  that  I  knew  the  look  of 
right  well,  when  he  used  to  keep  his  baccy  in  it, 
and  down  she  slaps  it,  and  it  jinglin'  wid  money. 
*  What's  that  for  you  ?  '  sez  she,  and,  '  The  laws, 
bless  us,'  sez  Martha,  '  is  it  after  takin'  that  you 
are?  And  what's  to  become  of  them  crathurs  up 
at  Lisconnel?'  '  Och  blathers,'  sez  Tishy,  'you 
needn't  be  lettin'  on  you  didn't  well  know  all  this 
while  I  had  it.  Sure  th'  ould  one  might  ha'  plinty 
more  hidden  on  us.  Anyway,  I  left  them  some- 
thin'  to  git  along  wid,'  sez  she — " 

"The  five  shillins,"  said  the  widow.  "Och, 
but  that  one's  a  caution." 

"  Rael  hard-workin'  and  industhrious  she  is," 
observed  Andy. 

" '  Thim  two'll  do  as  well  inside  as  out,'  sez 
Tishy.  '  I'll  just  be  countin'  the  bit  of  silver,' 
sez  she.  But  bedad  I  was  fairly  past  me  patience, 
and  up  I  leps,  and  I  grabbed  a  hould  of  the  little 
bag.  Och,  it's  a  quare  fright  I  gave  them  that 
time,  and  they  not  thinkin'  I  was  mindin',  rael  ter- 
rified they  were,"  said  Tom,  sitting  up  more  erect, 
and  recalling  this  rare  experience  with  evident 
complacency.  "And  '  Lave  that,  you  omadhawn,' 
sez  Tishy,  wid  the  look  of  a  divil  on  her.  '  What 
foolery  are  you  at  now  ?  '  '  You  thievin'  miscreant,' 
sez  I,  'it's  shankin'  off  to  the  polls  I'll  be,  and 
layin'   a  heavy  charge  agin  you   for  robbin'  and 


3IO  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

stealin',  and  you  after  lavin'  the  child  there  and 
the  ould  man  to  starve  widout  a  penny  to  their 
names,'  sez  I.  *  Faugh! '  sez  she  ;  '  for  that  matter, 
the  fever's  Hker  to  have  took  her  off  wid  no  throu- 
ble  to  be  starvin',  and  maybe  a  good  job  too  for 
everybody.'  And  *  Be  this  and  be  that,'  sez  I,  '  if 
I  thought  there  was  e'er  a  fear  of  it,'  tis  wringin' 
your  ugly  neck  round  I'd  be  this  instiant.'  '  Let 
go  of  that  bag,'  sez  she,  sweepin'  up  some  of  the 
shillins  that  was  spilt.  'The  polls,'  sez  I,  'and  a 
heavy  charge,  if  there's  another  word  out  of  your 
hidjis  head.'  *  I  vow  and  declare,'  sez  Martha,  '  I 
believe  'twould  be  the  chapest  thing  we  could  do 
wid  him,  to  let  him  take  it  and  go.  Sure  he'd  be 
divil  a  ha'porth  more  use  for  an  imigrint  than  the 
ould  cat  there  I  was  ape  enough  to  bring  along  to 
pacify  the  childer.'  So  then  Tishy  gave  some 
more  impidence,  but  the  last  end  of  it  was  we 
come  to  an  agreement  that  I'd  take  the  note  and 
the  silver  and  they'd  keep  what  bits  of  gould  was 
in  it,  and  they'd  go  off  wid  themselves  wherever 
they  plased  at  all,  and  I'd  tramp  straight  back  here 
to  be  lookin'  after  the  child  and  th'  ould  man.  Aye 
bedad,  we  settled  it  up  civil  enough.  And  afore 
I  went  Martha  handed  me  out  th'  ould  thimble, 
and  bid  me  be  bringin'  it  to  Katty.  *  'Twas  her 
mother's,'  sez  she,  'I  was  keepin'  for  her;  and 
thick  it  is  wid  holes  be  the  same  token,  but  don't 


CO  Ml  AG  AND   GOING.  311 

say  I'd  be  robbin'  it  off  of  her.'  And  they  tould 
me  to  take  Tib  along,  or  else  they'd  be  lavin'  her 
to  run  wild  ;  so  I  put  her  in  the  basket.  Begorrah, 
I  believe  Hughey  had  a  notion  to  be  comin'  wid 
me  and  the  cat,  for  he  was  lettin'  woful  bawls  the 
last  thing  I  heard  of  him. 

"  So  away  I  come  wid  the  best  of  me  haste ; 
och,  I  knocked  the  quare  walkin'  out  of  meself 
entirely.  And  I  stopped  at  the  last  big  place  I 
was  passin'  to  get  Katty  the  oranges.  And  I  was 
trampin'  it  all  the  night  after,  till  just  when  there 
was  a  sthrake  of  the  mornin'  over  the  bog,  I  come 
into  Lisconnel.  But  och  wirra  wirra — the  roof's 
off  of  the  house — och,  the  look  of  the  black  hole 
wid  the  rafters  stickin'  through  it,  and  ne'er  a 
breath  of  smoke,  till  me  heart  was  sick  watchin' 
to  see  might  there  be  an  odd  one,  and  the  door 
clap-clappin'.  Sure,  be  that  I  well  knew  the  child 
was  dead,  and  me  father  quit  out  of  it,  or  maybe 
buried  himself,  and  I  after  lavin'  them  dyin'  and 
starvin'.  So  for  'fraid  somebody'd  be  comin'  out 
and  tellin'  me,  off  I  run  away  into  the  bog,  till  I 
was  treadin'  here  in  the  could  wather.  And  then 
I  tumbled  th'  ould  cat  out  of  the  basket,  that  was 
scrawmin'  and  yowlin'  disp'rit,  and  I  slung  the 
basket  into  the  sthrame — there's  the  handle  among 
them  rushes — and  down  I  sat  under  the  bank.  I 
diinufi  how  many  nights  and  days  it  is  at  all — but 


312  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

here  I'll  stop ;  never  a  fut  I'll  stir  to  be  lookin'  for 
bite  or  sup,  or  lettin'  on  I'm  in  it — and  anybody- 
may  take  the  bit  of  money  and  welcome ;  I'd  as 
lief  be  pickin*  up  the  dirt  on  the  road — for  I'll 
just  give  me  life  a  chanst  to  end  out  of  the  world's 
misery  and  disolation." 

"  Now  may  goodness  forgive  you,"  said  the 
widow  M'Gurk,  "  it's  a  poor  case  to  want  the  wit. 
Troth,  and  yourself 's  the  quare  ould  child-desertin', 
mane-spirited,  aisy-frighted  slieveen  of  a  young 
bosthoon ;  but  what  sort  of  a  conthrivance  is  it 
you  have  on  you  at  all  at  all  be  way  of  a  head 
that  you  couldn't  have  the  sinse  to  consider  the 
roof  blowin'  off  of  a  body's  house  'ud  be  raison 
enough  for  them  to  be  quittin'  out  of  it,  and  no 
sign  of  dyin'  in  the  matter?  D'ye  think  the  win' 
was  apt  to  be  waitin'  till  there  happened  to  be 
nobody  widin,  afore  it  got  scatterin'  the  thatch? 
God  help  us  all,  you've  little  to  do  to  be  squattin' 
there  talkin'  about  disolations  and  miseries,  wid 
the  two  of  them  this  instiant  minnit  sittin'  be  the 
fire  up  at  my  place,  and  sorra  a  hand's  turn  ailin' 
them,  forby  Katty's  a  thrifle  conthrary  now  and 
agin,  through  not  bein'  entirely  strong  yit." 

"  And  bedad  at  that  hearin',"  reports  of  the 
occurrence  used  to  proceed  from  this  point,  "  the 
lep  he  gathered  himself  up  with,  and  the  rate  he 
legged  it  off — musha,  he  was  over  the  hill  while 


COMIX G   AND    GOING.  313 

we  were  pickin'  up  his  things  for  him.  And  as 
for  th'  OLild  cat  that  he  tipped  over,  it  rowled  a 
perch  of  ground  before  it  got  a  hould  of  its  four 
feet." 

"  Sure  we  were  sittin'  there  as  quite  as  could  be 
consaived  " — the  conclusion  of  this  precipitate  rusii 
was  thus  recounted — "  when  all  of  a  suddint  we 
couldn't  till  what  come  bouncin'  in  at  the  door  as 
if  it  had  been  shot  out  of  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  had  us  all  jumpin'  up  and  screechin',  till  we 
seen  it  was  on'y  Tom  Patman,  and  he  in  such  a 
takin'  you  might  suppose  he  thought  somethin'  'ud 
swally  up  ould  Joe  and  the  child  on  him  before  he 
could  get  at  them." 

Lisconnel's  opinion  was  divided  as  to  whether 
Tom  would  actually  have  stayed  and  starved  in  his 
hiding-place  had  he  not  been  discovered.  Mrs. 
M'Gurk  thought  it  likely  enough.  "  The  cat  goin' 
back  and  for'ards  that  way,"  she  said,  "  gave  her 
an  idee  there  was  somethin'  amiss  in  it,  and  that 
was  why  she  took  Andy  along.  'Deed  and  she 
got  a  quare  turn  when  first  she  spied  the  chap 
croochin'  under  the  bank — she  couldn't  tell  but  he 
might  ha'  been  a  corp."  Brian  Kilfoyle's  view 
was:  "  Divil  a  much!  Sure  if  iie'd  had  e'er  a 
notion  to  be  doin'  anythin'  agin  himself,  there  was 
plenty  of  deep  bog  holes  handy  for  him  to  sling 
himself  into,  and  have  done  wid  it."     Whereupon 


314  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

Mrs.  Sheridan  crossed  herself  deprecatingly,  and 
said :  "Ah  sure,  belike  the  crathur  wouldn't  have 
the  wickedness  in  him  to  go  do  such  a  thing." 
Her  husband  didn't  know  but  he  might.  "  Them 
soft  sort  of  fellers  'ud  sometimes  stick  to  anythin' 
they  took  into  their  heads,  the  same  as  a  dab  of 
morthar  agin  a  wall."  And  Ody  Rafferty  sup- 
posed the  fact  of  the  matter  was  "  that  if  be  any 
odd  chanst  they  got  a  notion  of  their  own,  they 
mistook  it  for  somebody  else's." 

On  one  point,  however,  the  neighbours,  Mrs, 
M'Gurk  not  excepted,  were  practically  unanimous, 
the  utter  flagitiousness,  namely,  of  Tishy  M'Crum. 
There  was  a  tendency  to  begrudge  her  the  trivial 
merit  of  having  voluntarily  left  behind  her  the  five- 
shilling  piece,  as  this  marred  that  perfect  symmetry 
of  iniquity  which  is  so  pleasant  to  the  eye  when 
displayed  by  people  of  whom  we  "  have  no  opin- 
ion." Only  Mrs.  Brian  said  it  was  a  mercy  she 
had  that  much  good-nature  in  her  itself;  but  even 
she  added  that  the  fewer  of  them  kind  of  folks 
she  saw  comin'  about  the  place  the  better  she'd  be 
plased ;  and  she  hoped  they'd  got  shut  of  them 
for  good  and  all. 

This  aspiration  seemed  the  more  likely  to  be 
fulfilled  when  within  a  week  or  so  the  Patmans 
heard  from  the  family  of  Tom's  first  wife,  who  held 


COMIX G  AND   GOING.  315 

out  prospects  of  work  for  himself  and  a  home  for 
his  father  and  Katty — an  offer  which  was  gladly 
accepted.  Their  departure  left,  as  the  single  trace 
of  their  sojourn  in  Lisconnel,  Tib  the  cat,  which 
remained  behind,  a  somewhat  unwelcome  bequest 
to  the  widow  M'Gurk.  Indeed,  I  fear  the  creature 
became  a  source  of  some  annoyance  to  her,  because 
Andy  Sheridan  contracted  a  habit  of  addressing  it 
by  the  name  of  Tishy,  and  bestowing  upon  it  the 
same  laudatory  epithets  with  which  the  widow  had 
been  wont  to  justify  her  admiration  for  the  ener- 
getic sisters. 

It  was  on  a  hushed  February  morning  that  the 
Patmans  finally  departed.  The  smell  of  .spring 
was  in  the  air,  and  filmy  silvery  mist  had  begun  to 
float  off  the  dark  bogland  in  vanishing  wreaths, 
soft  and  dim  as  the  frail  sloe-blossom  already  stolen 
out  over  the  writhen  black  branches  up  on  the 
ridge.  A  jewel  had  been  left  in  the  heart  of  every 
groundling  trefoil  and  clover-leaf,  and  the  long  rays 
that  twinkled  to  them  were  still  just  tinged  with 
rose.  Here  and  there  a  flake  of  gold  seemed  to 
have  lit  upon  the  clump  of  sombre  green  furze- 
bushes,  by  which  neighbours  in  a  small  knot  stood 
watching  the  three  generations  of  Patmans  dwindle 
away  down  the  road  with  its  narrow  dewy  grass- 
border  threading  the  vast  sweep  of  sky-rimmed 


3i6  IRISH  IDYLLS. 

brown.  Father  and  son  walked,  while  little  Katty 
bobbed  along  balanced  in  a  swaying  donkey-pan- 
nier. The  widow  M'Gurk,  who  felt  a  good  deal 
of  concern  about  the  destiny  of  her  late  lodgers, 
hoped  they  were  goin'  to  dacint  people,  for  there 
wasn't  as  much  sinse  among  the  three  of.  them  as 
you'd  put  on  a  fourpenny  bit ;  and  Mrs.  Ouigley 
thought  "  'twould  be  hard  to  say  which,  the  young 
man  or  the  ould  one,  was  the  foolishest ;  for  the 
blathers  ould  Joe  talked  about  Tom,  and  the  gaby 
Tom  made  of  himself  over  the  child,  now  that  he 
had  his  own  way  wid  her,  was  past  belief." 

"  And  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Ody  RafTerty, 
"  there's  folks  goin'  about  that  you'll  want  all  the 
wits  you  ever  had,  and  maybe  somethin'  tacked  on, 
to  get  the  better  of  rightly." 

"Augh,  I  question  will  they  ever  do  any  great 
things,  goodness  help  them,"  said  Mrs.  Sheridan. 
"  'Twill  be  much  if  he  keeps  them  outside  the 
House." 

"Well,  anyway,"  said  Biddy  Ryan,  "I'd  liefer 
be  in  their  coats,  fortin  or  no  fortin,  than  like  them 
two  ugly-tempered  women,  settin'  off  to  the  dear 
knows  where,  after  robbin'  and  plunderin'  all  be- 
fore them." 

"  True  for  you  then,  Biddy,"  said  Mrs.  Brian, 
turning  away  from  her  wide  outlook  ;  "  we're  none 
so  badly  off,  when  we're  stoppin'   where  we  are, 


COMI\G  AXD   GOISG.  317 

instid  of  streelin'  about  wid  the  notion  of  such  vil- 
lainies in  our  minds.  For  sure  enough,"  she  said, 
as  she  faced  round  towards  the  grey-peaked  end- 
walls  and  russet  thatch  of  Lisconnel,  "  the  world's 
a  quare  place  to  get  travellin'  through,  take  it  as 
you  will." 


STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL, 

lOS  AKGELIS.  -:-  UAL. 


STATE  i^        L  009   493   473   4 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A  001  402  935  9 


